


Unravel

by jujus_writing_corner



Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Blood, Body Horror, Dehumanization, Gen, Gore, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Needles, Non-Consensual Touching, Possession, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22851358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again.
Relationships: Celine | The Seer/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Damien | The Mayor/Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?), Darkiplier/Yandereplier, Dr. Iplier & Yandereplier, Dr. Iplier/The Host
Comments: 63
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, I'm big excited for this one y'all ;w;
> 
> I've been working on this for a long time, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. As said in the tags, I'll give warnings for every chapter, since most of these tags don't apply right out the gate.
> 
> Summary: Yandere is hunted, shaped, conditioned by a force made of static. It has a plan to control Yandere and take him over, bit by bit.  
> Chapter Warnings: Mind Control, Kidnapping
> 
> Enjoy! :3c

It starts with such a simple thing: A light, tinny buzz in Yandereplier’s headphones. It’s there for a moment and then it’s gone.

Yandere’s been told by the older egos, Dark especially, to be aware of static in all its forms. But it’s so quick that Yandere can mistake it for something harmless. His headphones are rather old, it’s not strange that they might feedback every once in a while.

After that, though, the static learns. It can tell it’s been noticed, at least, and that won’t do. It reigns back, quiets, sharpens. It’s easy to penetrate a person’s understanding without their knowledge. It’s had plenty of practice. Filtering past Yandere’s awareness and crawling into his brain is child’s play. It’s tempting to go farther, to make the trickle a downpour, to overwhelm and conquer –

_Patience,_ it reminds itself, _In due time._

The static could simply take Yandere now; filter into his body like blood and move it to its whims as it has done to so many others. But it seeks a deeper control, a stronger grip, a longer-lasting influence this time.

There’s plenty of opportunity, after all. Yandere is young, he’s absorbed in technology. He plays video games, watches movies, scrolls through his phone, listens to music. If there’s a bit of audio fuzz whenever Yandere turns on Bluetooth or feedback under the sound effects in a game, he doesn’t hear it. His brain gets used to it even as his ears fail to recognize it. One day, the static crawls under the track of his favorite song, cozying up to the baseline, and Yandere doesn’t notice – that is, until the static cuts itself off two-thirds of the way in. It makes Yandere pause his music and lift his headphones to look around. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for. Predictably, nothing is amiss, and Yandere resumes listening. He can’t shake the feeling that something is off until the static creeps back in for the song’s last chorus.

The static is careful not to expose itself when Yandere is around others. It doesn’t filter through the TV when he plays video games with Chrome, it doesn’t leak into the speakers when he’s singing karaoke with Yancy. It stays away from the health monitors when Yandere’s in the clinic with Dr. Iplier, it avoids Yandere’s phone when he calls Dark during his business trips. It knows that if it’s spotted and pointed out even once, it’s all over. Dark will instantly shut it down, and the whole plan will fall apart. For that reason, it’s key that Yandere never puts his finger on what he’s hearing, key that he fails to realize that anything is amiss at all. The static makes a home in Yandere’s mind, an unending buzz that eventually, slowly, begins to speak to him.

_Listen closely,_ it whispers, so low it barely reaches Yandere’s subconscious.

_Follow me._

_Hear my calls._

There’s no good way to test how well Yandere is listening straight away. The static has made its living off subtlety, it won’t do to be too direct now. As with the first stage of building audio fuzz, the words morph into commands slowly, and the static watches, learns, recalibrates. It knows it needs to make Yandere feel at ease before anything else. People are more compliant if they’re happy. It puts messages into certain songs, sees if Yandere listens to those songs more often as the messages sink in. An experiment of sorts.

_Relax._

_Be calm._

_You are safe._

The experiment is a success. It’s not noticeable to Yandere how his body reacts to the static now, he doesn’t know why certain songs make him feel comfortable, fuzzy, tired in a pleasant way. He listens to the same songs over and over, the same songs the static speaks through. It goes further, pushes harder in small steps.

_Turn off your laptop._

_Say “good morning” instead of “ohayō.”_

_Lock your bedroom door._

Simple things that Yandere barely notices himself doing, things he doesn’t think about, things others fail to see. Yandere follows the commands easily, the static pulling him along, tugging him through the day. It continues, getting bolder.

_Flush your mascara down the toilet._

_Rip up the manga you’re reading._

_Throw your sketchbook in the garbage._

Yandere obeys with few qualms. He does pause at tossing the sketchbook, and stands there holding it over the trash can, frozen with indecision. Fortunately, he has his earbuds in listening to music, and the static filters in to tell him _relax, calm down, you don’t need it, just listen to me, you’ll feel better once you throw it out._ And Yandere listens. He throws his sketchbook out and the static rewards him, rushing into his mind and settling in the cracks, vibrating at the right frequency for pleasure. Yandere returns to his room with a shiver to listen to the same songs he’s been listening to all week.

The static can afford to be louder, now, more absorbing. Anyone who listens to Yandere’s music or TV shows or video games would hear the static clearly and be annoyed or alarmed by it. But Yandere is desensitized. The first time he fully registers the static, he doesn’t have the ability to care about it anymore. The static is safe to him now. Comforting. Kind. Gentle. It dulls any pain, drowns out the world. But when the static cuts off, he can easily return to his normal behavior. As far as the static can tell, not a single ego suspects a thing.

The static is an omnipresent, comforting buzz by the time visuals are introduced.

Visuals are necessary. Even if Yandere’s ears tell him he’s safe, he’ll panic if what he sees is too frightening and unfamiliar. Fortunately, Yandere is still glued to screens, especially now that his sketchbook is rotting in a landfill. When he draws digitally, there’s opportunity for visual glitches in his canvas. When he watches TV, fuzzy gray stripes can dart across the screen. Videos of all kinds can buffer, skip, repeat frames. Games can glitch, too; characters can clip, their bodies turn inside out. They start slow, quiet, ignorable, but escalate, louder, droning, gray fuzz sloughing so heavy across the screens that Yandere cannot see what he’s watching. But the static encourages him, tells him it’s safe, it’s okay, it’s good. These glitches are nothing to worry about. These glitches are things to look forward to. These glitches are fun to watch. The static gets Yandere to watch a suddenly-signalless TV for a full minute before he remembers to blink.

_It’s time,_ the static chatters to itself, _Wait for the right moment._

There are safeguards in place at Ego Inc., firewalls and failsafes and lines of code to keep the worst of the static out. They aren’t perfect, but they’re enough to stop the static from enacting the final part of its plan. Yandere knows little of these systems, the static cannot command him to destroy them. So it bides its time and keeps Yandere solidly in its control. It gets him in the habit of locking his bedroom door. It waits.

The right moment comes before long.

An awful lightning storm swallows Ego Inc., something the static cannot take credit for. It’s purely serendipitous, and it’s perfect cover. The lightning is striking close, most of the egos are indoors trying to weather it out. Natural electricity is unpredictable, but the static is powerful enough to harness it, to join it, to redirect it. It waits, congregates in the outer reaches of Ego Inc.’s security, lurks among the storm clouds, waiting for the perfect moment.

Finally, a bolt strikes down, right into Ego Inc., powerful and bright, and the static joins it, makes it stronger. It crashes into the building with an unholy flash.

The entire building turns off.

The lights blow out, TVs and desktops shut down, security cameras go dark, firewalls go down, coding scrambles and fails.

The static, all of it, slips into the building as easy as water into a riverbed.

Yandere is in his room in the dark, recovering from the scare of everything going dark at once. He pouts and groans. He’d been watching the TV on the wall across from his bed, but said TV is now as black as everything else in the room. His phone is the only screen still on, but the battery is low, and it’ll die too before long. He wonders if he should hunt around the building for someone else to wait out the storm with.

At that moment, his TV turns back on, but shows nothing but droning static and high-pitched radio fuzz. Dull gray light illuminates Yandere’s face. Even with the thunder outside, the noise of the TV is present and commanding. But Yandere doesn’t mind it. Maybe he should turn the TV off, but he doesn’t want to. The pixels scramble and run into each other, black and white and gray, and Yandere watches them churn on the screen, phone forgotten. That familiar unfamiliar buzzing fills his ears, sends a nicer version of pins and needles through his brain. It feels good, safe. It’s light in the dark, quiet in the loudness of the thunderous storm.

_Come closer._

Yandere crawls up his bed, slowly. He doesn’t want to miss a moment of swimming pixels. His eyes absorb it, blown wide in the dark, filling in gray. He sits at the foot of his bed, leaning forward as far as he can, utterly and completely taken in. Soft, quiet, numb, gentle. It’s fun to watch the pixels dance. It’s fun to listen to the static. It’s normal. It’s ordinary. But it’s wonderful. Calming. Soothing. Yandere could get lost in it. He wants to.

The static builds, congregates into the TV screen, louder, fuller, it builds into something tangible, makes itself a body, reforms, and it – _he_ – finally manifests, hand reaching from the static like Samara. From the hand, clawed and gaunt and sharp, comes an arm, comes a shoulder clad in black, comes a head, a face, a neck sliced open and leaking blood and pixels, eyes blacker than the room around him, mouth split in a grin of huge, harsh teeth.

Yandere feels no fear. He feels no trepidation. He stares into the monster’s eyes. He’s leaning so far forward he nearly falls off his bed.

“Come here,” the monster commands, “It’s time for us to go.”

Yandere slides off his bed, takes the monster’s hand without hesitation.

When the power comes back on half an hour later, Yandere’s bedroom is empty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yandere’s disappearance doesn’t go unnoticed. Before long, a suspect emerges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update yesterday! I was hanging out with family and never got the chance to ^^"
> 
> But I'm glad y'all liked the first chapter of this so much! ^u^ Things don't get much better from there, sorry not sorry ;3 The others still have to figure out what happened, after all...
> 
> Chapter Warnings: None

No one realizes that anything happened during the storm until Chrome and Yancy come to Yandere’s room half an hour after the power comes back on. The thunder and lightning have abated into heavy rain, and Chrome and Yancy have resigned themselves to a night in.

“Yo, Yan, come hang out with us!” Yancy calls, knocking the door.

Nothing.

“He’s probably got his headphones on,” Chrome sighs, “He can never hear anything through those.” He raps the door so loud that Yancy jumps. “Yandere! Hey!”

Still nothing. Chrome frowns.

“Maybe he ain’t here?” Yancy suggests, “He might’ve tried to find us first.”

“We would’ve seen him already,” Chrome says, then calls, “We’re coming in.” He turns the doorknob. The door’s locked.

Yancy blinks. Chrome growls.

“Hey, what’s the problem?” Yancy asks, confused. “I know Yan doesn’t lock his door much, but–”

“Yandere _never_ locks his door,” Chrome growls, “Not unless he’s changing or showering, and even then he sometimes forgets. Why would he ever lock his door during a storm like this? Something’s wrong.”

“So what do we–”

Once again Yancy is cut off, this time by Chrome kicking Yandere’s door open with a bang. Yancy yelps and puts his fists up, startled, as Chrome storms into the room.

Yandere isn’t there. The TV is on, with Netflix asking if Yandere’s still watching the anime that was playing. Looking deeper into the room shows that the attached bathroom is just as empty. Chrome even opens the closet, just to see, and finds nothing. Yancy wanders around the room before sitting on the bed to think.

“Weird,” Yancy says, “There’s no way Yandere could’ve left without using the door, unless…” He leans over and looks at Yandere’s bedroom window. “Nah, that ain’t been opened yet today, I can tell. Maybe…” He looks down at the floor, eyes sweeping over the carpet, even looks under the bed. “Nah, he didn’t dig nowhere, the carpet’s undisturbed. Or…” He goes along the walls, tapping and knocking. “Nah, he didn’t go through the walls, there’s no tunnels or passages or nothin’. Youse sure he ain’t just somewhere else? We ain’t seen ‘im in a few hours now, he could be anywheres.”

“I guess he could be somewhere around,” Chrome sighs, rubbing his neck, frustrated. “I just can’t shake the sense that something’s wrong. It feels…it feels off in here.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, but…” Chrome looks at Yancy. “Have you ever touched the screen of an old TV and felt all the static around it?”

“Oh sure, Happy Trails ain’t upgraded its TVs since ‘92.”

“I feel like that, but all over.” Chrome shivers. “There’s static everywhere.” His gaze hardens. “There’s only one person who could’ve caused this.”

“Well, hold on now,” Yancy says, placating, “I don’t know who youse talkin’ about, but we can’t just jump to conclusions. Ain’t there a way we can find out for sure where he went?”

“The cameras,” Chrome answers immediately. “They shut down during the power outage, but they’re working now.”

“Youse guys keep tellin’ me this place is different from prison, but…” Yancy mumbles to himself as he follows Chrome out of Yandere’s room.

When they get to the control room, Google is there, finishing up security checks.

“Google,” Chrome says, “Can you help us? We’re looking for Yandere, but he’s not in his room.”

“You want to look through security footage? For that?” Google asks, deadpan.

“Something’s up, Google,” Chrome insists, “His bedroom door was locked, and the room was full of static.”

Google’s expression changes, and he immediately turns to the cameras. He looks through them all, and Chrome follows along with his eyes. They change too fast for Yancy’s human eyes to keep track of.

“So where’d he go?” he asks.

“Nowhere,” Chrome gasps.

“He’s not on any camera.” Google switches to the camera in Yandere’s room, starts rewinding footage. “If his door was locked, he was in his room at some point. I’m going to find out when he left it.”

The room stays empty, the only movement in the room is the raindrops hitting the window. There’s several seconds of blackness from the power outage messing up the camera, and then, just before it, Yandere is there, watching TV.

Google’s brow furrows, Chrome starts to look worried, Yancy is confused.

“How the…” he starts to ask, but trails off.

Google lets the footage play through. Past Yandere watches TV, perfectly content, then the screen blacks out from the outage, and when the camera resumes filming, no one is there. Google pours through footage from every camera in the minutes after the power returned, and Chrome looks too, both straining for any sight of Yandere, for any sound of his voice, for any flash of his red bangs. But there’s no sign of him.

Yandere has vanished.

Google goes back to the footage of Yandere in his room, turns up the audio, searches for clues. Once the audio is louder, all three people in the room can hear the static below the storm and the anime playing on the TV. Yancy is new, he’s never heard that static before, but Google and Chrome have.

Chrome’s expression falls. Google’s hardens.

“I’m informing Dark.” He pulls up a holographic screen, connects to the security footage, and downloads the relevant film. “You two don’t have to stay here, but be ready for Dark to find you and ask you questions.”

He leaves the room at a quick pace, leaving Chrome and Yancy alone. Chrome collapses into a chair. His hands are shaking.

“Is Yan…” Yancy begins, horribly confused but smart enough to know he should be worried. “Is Yan really just…gone?”

“Most likely,” Chrome says, voice quiet. He looks at Yancy. “Did Dark tell you about Antisepticeye when you first came here?”

“Oh!” Yancy gasps. “He did, but I…I just forgot. Ain’t never seen him or heard about him since Dark mentioned him.” He quiets as he remembers what he was told, how powerful and dangerous Anti is, how he must be avoided at all costs, how he lives to sow chaos, to ruin, to destroy, to kill. “And now…now he’s got Yandere?”

“There’s no solid sign of him,” Chrome admits, “But the static in the room, Yandere’s sudden disappearance during a _blackout_ of all things…it all screams “Anti.”

After Dark learns of the situation from Google and listens to Chrome and Yancy’s side of things, he begins to think the same thing.

“Youse gonna call a meeting?” Yancy asks him, cautious and quiet.

Dark looks fit to reduce the entire building to rubble. His aura is barely contained, screaming and cracking and lashing out around him. His eyes shift from normal to black to normal again with every other blink.

“No,” Dark says, “I’m not going to waste time telling the others when I only need Wilford.” He turns to Google. “I’m getting Wilford and we’re going to Anti’s hideout to retrieve Yandere. Inform Dr. Iplier of the situation so he’s ready to heal Yandere if need be.”

Google nods and leaves. Dark turns to Chrome and Yancy. Yancy shrinks back. Chrome stands firm, too hollow to be intimidated by Dark now.

“You two are to keep this situation to yourselves. I do not wish to return to a building of panic. The others will be made aware of the situation when Wilford and I come back. Understood?”

“Y-Yes sir,” Yancy stammers.

“Yes,” Chrome answers, voice as dull as he feels.

With that, Dark teleports away to find Wilford.

Fortunately, Wilford’s in the first place Dark looks: In his studio, editing footage for a show.

“Hey, Darky, whatever this is, can it wait?” Wilford asks, not turning away from the computer. “I’m on a deadline.”

“No,” Dark growls, “It can’t.”

The tone of Dark’s voice gives Wilford pause. As much as he likes to tease Dark for being dramatic, he can tell when Dark is seriously angry or unnerved. Wilford swivels around in his desk chair to face Dark, and his eyes get a little wider at the look on Dark’s face, at the sight of his aura thrashing around him, threatening to rip apart.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Yandere’s missing.” Dark holds up a flash drive that Google gave him, full of copied security footage. “It looks like Anti took him.” Dark tosses the drive to Wilford, who catches it easily.

Wilford’s expression slingshots from shock to rage, his nostrils flare like an angry bull. He plugs the drive into his computer and watches the same footage that Dark already saw. Dark walks forward to stand behind him, and rewatching the footage of Yandere haplessly watching TV as static fills the air around him makes something go tight in Dark’s chest.

He doesn’t know what Anti could possibly want with Yandere, but he already knows it’s nothing good. Wilford seems to be thinking the same; his face gets redder and his frown gets deeper with every second of footage he watches. He listens to the same static Dark did, watches the footage go dark, sees it come back to an empty room.

“He’s really gone?” Wilford asks, accent vanished. “He’s nowhere in the building?”

“No,” Dark says, “Google checked every camera, and his friends haven’t seen him.”

Wilford stands from his desk chair, rolls his neck, cracks his knuckles. His eyes are bright pink to complement Dark’s pitch black.

“I’m going to shoot a hole through every disgusting pixel on that glitch,” Wilford growls. His hand is already twitching for his gun.

“I’ll hold him down for you,” Dark replies. His aura flashes and snaps, out for blood.

The two nod and disappear from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark and Wil don't play when it comes to Anti, and they ESPECIALLY don't play when it comes to Yan owo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark and Wilford confront Anti, but it doesn’t go as they expect.  
> Warnings: Mild body horror (so mild I almost didn't add this warning, so take that as you will)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter the glitch gremlin (officially) >:3
> 
> Enjoy!

Dark and Wilford appear in Anti’s hideout in an instant, startling Anti, who’s sitting at an old desk, feet kicked up, filing his nails with a knife. Not that he needs to: His nails are more like claws already, sharp and black, extending from green-tinged hands on green-tinged arms. His hair is darker green and messy, but not as messy as the eternal bloody slice across his neck. It squelches quietly as Anti turns in his seat.

“What the hell!?” he yells, then calms as his eyes, one blue and one green, settle on Dark and Wilford. “Oh, it’s you two.” He grins. “You should’ve told me you were coming, I might’ve cleaned the place up a little.”

Not that it would’ve helped much: Anti’s hideout is inside a condemned warehouse, filled with some old furniture, a wall of collected knives, dozens of computer towers and monitors leeching wifi from the surrounding area, and several purposefully-built prison cells for Anti to store any puppets he might have in his possession. It’s a metallic kind of cold here, and the air is always filled with static and a scent like burning wires.

Today, Dark and Wilford have no patience for Anti’s banter, and in the next instant, they’re standing right in front of him, looking down on him with rage.

“No funny business, glitch,” Wilford growls, “Where is he?”

“Who?” Anti asks, unimpressed. He continues filing his nails, blowing away the shavings.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Dark snaps, aura rumbling around him. “Yandereplier just went missing during a power outage at Ego Inc.”

“Huh.” Anti pauses his filing and purses his lips, thinking for a moment. “Alright, I guess I can see why you suspect me. But I didn’t take him.” He laughs. “What would I possibly want with Yandere, anyway?”

“ _You_ tell _us,_ ” Wilford snarls, taking a threatening step closer.

“Hey! Look,” Anti yells, “I didn’t kidnap Yandere. I’m not an idiot. The only thing that would accomplish is making you two angry. He’s not here.”

“Then certainly you wouldn’t mind us taking a look around, would you?” Dark asks with an angry grin.

Anti looks between Dark with his cracking, flashing aura, and Wilford with his blazing pink eyes and hands twitching for a gun at his sides. He seems to realize he doesn’t have a choice.

“Fine,” he sighs, “Knock yourself out. Try not to make too much of a mess.”

Dark and Wilford don’t listen to Anti’s request. They tear the building apart looking for Yandere. Wilford pries open every prison cell and looks in every corner, Dark’s aura tosses aside every computer tower to look for hidden passages or compartments. They search under every table, in every closet, every dead-end corner and cranny, every passage they manage to uncover. They search for Yandere, search for a scrap of his clothing, a lock of his hair, anything at all that might signal that he’s here or that he used to be here. Anti moves from the desk to lean against the wall with his arms crossed, an annoyed expression on his face. It only seems to make Dark and Wilford angrier; Wilford splinters wood with his grip on tables and chairs, Dark smashes more than one monitor as he tosses them around. They look everywhere, then they look everywhere again, and again.

But it’s no use. There’s no sign of Yandere anywhere in the building, not so much as a single strand of hair. They look at Anti, still glowering, and Anti stares evenly back.

“You done trashing the place now?” Anti asks, deadpan. “Can you go away so I can clean this up?”

“No!” Wilford roars, “There’s no way Yan isn’t here!!” He lunges at Anti and grabs him by the shirt color. “Where the hell are you hiding him!?” Anti’s expression twists into rage, and a knife appears in his hand as he starts to glitch in place.

“Calm down,” Dark orders, “We’ll get nowhere by antagonizing Anti. Besides…” Dark cracks his neck as his aura waves around him. “…There’s still one more thing I can try.”

Anti rolls his eyes, and Wilford lets him go with a huff. He seems to understand what Dark means, and jabs a finger at Anti.

“Don’t try anything, glitch,” he growls.

“Who, me?” Anti replies with a cheeky grin, glitching the knife away. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dark sighs, then straightens his posture and closes his eyes.

His aura begins to reach out, flowing out and away from him. It goes farther than normal, a curtain of ink spreading out past Wilford and Anti and throughout the warehouse. Tendrils of aura poke in every corner, sweep through every room. Dark, eyes closed in the center of the cloud, sees only what his aura sees. The only bright things are Wilford and Anti, as the aura can pick out figments with ease. That’s how Dark plans to find Yandere, by using his aura to seek him out, perhaps even lead him back.

_Come out, my love, come out._

Anti watches the aura swim through the room, as does Wilford. They both notice the aura creeping through the cracks in the wall, out of Anti’s warehouse and into the street beyond. It ever-so-slightly begins to thin out, lightening from pitch black to deep gray as it flows. The ringing emanating from it picks up, just enough to be noticed.

Dark looks through everything his aura sees as it whispers along the sidewalk, brushing past trees and fire hydrants and the occasional human trudging down the street. The aura fans out in a circle around the warehouse, pulsing into nearby dumpsters and cars and even other buildings, searching them as thoroughly as it did Anti’s hideout.

_Yandere, where are you?_

What little Wilford and Anti can see of Dark’s aura gets thinner, lighter. It goes from charcoal to stone, lighter and lighter, little by little. Wilford frowns. Anti begins to take interest. The ringing gets higher, louder.

The aura continues outward, past street signs and into stores, past traffic lights and crossing crowds, deeper into Brighton. It passes every person by; they are nothing but more distractions to filter through, nothing but clutter to Dark’s vision. There is still no sign of a figment, no sign of Yandere. He can feel his aura stretching thin, but he continues to push it outward.

_Please, darling, I cannot do this much longer! Where have you gone??_

The aura still listing through the warehouse is pale, only as dark as the smoke cloud from a cigarette. The ringing is deafening, overpowering the room's static. Anti’s eyes are wide, his lips are split in a sick grin as he watches the aura waver and shiver. Wilford’s furrowed brows shoot up with alarm as the space around Dark begins to crack, splinter, fall apart without the aura there to hold it in place. Figures scream and contort in the shadow, Dark can only barely be seen.

“Dark,” Wilford gasps.

Dark doesn’t hear him, or if he does, he makes no indication. His aura pours out from him like a running faucet, trying to blanket the city around him, desperately searching for Yandere. Even through the din, the ringing and the howling shadows, Wilford and Anti can see Dark changing. His skin pales from gray to white, the bags under his eyes spread their purple to his eyelids. His hair hangs limp, his fingers shake, his suit seems looser. His cheeks sink into themselves, becoming gaunt, his fingers shrink against the bone. Anti looks fit to burst into laughter. What pale remnants of shadows that remain begin to peel away, sliding from Dark as they scream. The ringing reaches a fever pitch. Just before the moment of no return, Wilford lurches out of his stupor.

_“DARK!!”_

This time, Dark hears him.

All at once, the aura retracts, contracting away from its radius, flowing like a river rapid back the way it came, past the people and street signs, out of the buildings and cars, back through the cracks in the walls of the hideout, rushing back into Dark with an almighty _whoosh_ like the birth of a tornado in reverse. The aura crashes, washing over Dark like an ocean wave as the ringing cracks. A force like wind pushes Wilford and Anti back against the wall.

When the smoke clears, Dark stands as he did before, though slouched. His suit is wrinkled, his eyes are hollow and fluttering. Wilford appears by his side with a _pop_ to put an arm around his shoulders and keep him standing. Dark leans against him with a sigh, exhausted to his bones.

“Dark, you idiot,” Wilford whispers, in too much shock to raise his voice.

“I couldn’t find him,” Dark gasps, voice like a breath in the air. “He’s nowhere. He’s gone.”

Silence reigns over the room for several long moments. Wilford’s expression breaks.

“How far did you look?” he asks, wavering.

“Over a mile out,” Dark answers, slow and weak, “There was no sign of him.”

“I told you he wasn’t here,” Anti pipes up, bored now that the action is over. “Can you leave me alone now?”

“I don’t believe this!” Wilford shouts, suddenly enraged, snapping his head up to glare at Anti. “Yandere went missing during a blackout! There was _static_ in his room!! The camera stopped working right before he disappeared and you expect us to believe it wasn’t you!?”

“Enough, Wilford,” Dark says.

“But–”

“He’s nowhere in a mile radius.” Dark closes his eyes. “Wherever Yandere is, it’s not here. We need to go home and figure out our next steps.”

“Dark…”

Wilford looks from Dark’s tired frown to Anti’s smug grin. He still doesn’t trust this, he still doesn’t trust Anti, but…if Dark’s aura couldn’t find Yandere here, then what could?

“Take us home, Wil,” Dark sighs, not annoyed, but exhausted.

“Buh-bye!” Anti chirps with a mocking wave.

“This isn’t over, glitch,” Wilford mutters.

But he follows Dark’s command, and teleports them out of Anti’s hideout and back to Ego Inc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anti: Yan's not here  
> Yan: *isn't there*  
> Dark and Wil: *surprised pikachu face*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark holds a meeting to inform the others of Yandere’s disappearance and discuss where to go from here.  
> Warnings: None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all thought YOU were sad when it turned out Dark and Wil couldn't find Yan last chapter, imagine how his friends and family are feel when they find out! :D
> 
> Enjoy! ;3

Dark schedules a group meeting once he and Wilford get back to Ego Inc., set to be in twenty minutes to give Dark a chance to recover from overexerting himself. It’s enough time for the other egos to get the notification and begin to worry.

Meetings are commonplace in Ego Inc., but only for the oldest among them. Those are the meetings where things like budgets and projects are discussed. But group meetings are different. Those are always impromptu, demanding every single ego come to the meeting room, no matter how new. They’re for time-sensitive, impactful issues that can’t wait until the info disseminates from the main egos. Best-case scenario, they’re about new egos joining the fold. More often, though, they’re to give bad news: When an ego fades, or a dangerous outside figment is antagonizing them and threatening harm, or said figment has already done something terrible. As the time until the meeting runs down and egos gather, they begin to speculate on what’s happening. Yancy, Chrome, Google and Dr. Iplier already seem to know what’s going on, but they all know better than to spill the truth before Dark gets there. As the room fills up, one ego remains conspicuously absent. Even the ones who know nothing of the background situation notice the angrier-than-usual scowl on Chrome’s face, the nervous way Yancy shifts his feet, and Dr. Iplier’s fingers unconsciously tapping the table.

When Dark and Wilford arrive to start the meeting, the heavy rain outside has slowed, and is no longer so deafening. The table’s not big enough for all of them, so many of them stand. Still, they’ve congregated into groups: The three newest egos stand together, Yancy’s anxiety rubbing off on Magnum and Illinois. The Googles have grouped together, Oliver and Plus worriedly fussing over their decidedly unhappy brothers. The Jims stand by Bim, and Ed, Silver, and King have moved to be near each other, with Eric tucked near Ed. Bing and MarkBop have paired up, and Host and Dr. Iplier have changed their usual seats to sit together. Wilford takes his usual spot at the end of the table, with Dark opposite him at the head. Anyone who wasn’t already worried certainly is now upon seeing the looks on their faces; Wilford angry and uncharacteristically serious, and Dark colder than stone. It usually takes a few moments for the egos to quiet down for a meeting, but this time, everyone silences nearly immediately. For a moment, the rain softly falling outside is all that can be heard. Finally, Dark speaks.

“I’ve called this meeting to inform you all of a…situation that has arose,” Dark begins. “I’m sure that many of you have noticed Yandere’s absence from this meeting.”

A few agreeing murmurs, some nods. Dark continues.

“During the power outage earlier tonight, Yandere disappeared.” Gasps fill the room. “Chrome and Yancy were the ones who discovered that Yandere was gone, and Google confirmed it by looking through security footage from Yandere’s room.”

The murmuring starts up again, surprised and worried. None of the egos wanted to hear that one of their own is missing.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” asks Silver, “The power outage was an hour ago.”

“Because I thought I knew the culprit,” Dark mutters, more annoyed with himself than Silver. “The evidence from the cameras pointed to Anti, so Wilford and I confronted him at his hideout. We searched the building and the surrounding area, but Yandere wasn’t there.”

“I still don’t buy it,” Wilford seethes from his end of the table. “The static in the footage, the blackout–”

“There was static??” asks King, appalled.

“There was.” Dark shoots Wilford a glare. “Regardless, we could find no evidence that Anti was hiding Yandere, so we need to consider other suspects.”

“We ought to let the others see the footage,” Wilford says, “To show them what’s going on exactly.”

_“And prove my point”_ is the unspoken addition. Dark sighs.

“Fine.” He waves a hand to Google. “Display the footage, Google.”

Google nods, and a hologram projection appears at the center of the table, visible to all. It shows the camera footage of Yandere sitting in his room, watching TV, storm raging outside. Everyone watches the screen with rapt attention. Dr. Iplier, the last of Yandere’s loved ones to see the footage, watches with especially wide eyes.

“As is clear, Yandere was alone in his room during the storm.” Google turns the volume up, and the whole room can hear the static under the show Yandere’s watching.

Dr. Iplier grabs Host’s hand for reassurance, keeping his eyes trained on the screen.

“While the power was out, the cameras were out as well.” The footage goes black. “When the power came back on…” The screen fills with Yandere’s room again. “Yandere was no longer there.” True to his word, the room is empty, and the static is absent. “Chrome and I searched through the footage across every camera in the building, and we could not find Yandere visible in any camera after the power returned.” He turns the footage off. “If it was not Anti, it was most definitely some outside force or other figment that took Yandere from his room.”

The room explodes with panicked questioning, covering up Dr. Iplier’s shaky sigh. Host interlocks their fingers and murmurs into his ear.

“Enough!” Dark shouts, silencing the room once more. “We will conduct ourselves like adults. We’ll get nowhere by panicking.”

“We’ll get nowhere by sitting here and letting Anti off the hook!!” Wilford argues.

“Yeah, are we really sure it wasn’t Anti?” Bim asks. He wilts under the glare Dark shoots him, but presses on. “I-I mean, that definitely sounded like Anti’s static, and between that and the blackout…”

“When Wilford and I couldn’t find Yandere during our first search,” Dark growls, “I used my aura to look through the building and the surrounding radius. I searched everywhere from Anti’s hideout to the area a mile away, and I found no sign of any figment, much less Yandere.”

The other egos consider. Most of them have seen Dark use his aura like that, and know how impossible it is to hide from it.

“If you did that, then…” Oliver murmurs quietly, “There’s no way Anti took Yandere. Whoever it was must’ve framed him.”

“That would make sense,” Ed says, “Near about everyone knows how much trouble Anti makes for us. He’d make a good scapegoat.”

“Who could possibly frame him?” Wilford asks, stubborn.

“Let’s see…” Dark begins with a tight, angry grin. He starts counting on his fingers. “There’s Phantom, Natemare, Peevils, Infelix, MadPat, Wiggles, Deceit, Remus, I’m sure Darkiishu and Apocalypse are still out there somewhere…if you haven’t noticed, Wilford, we have plenty of enemies.”

It’s true: The Iplier egos are widely known to be the most powerful figments around; no other figment or group of figments has the fandom to sustain such a large number of people. Dark and Wilford are the strongest figments out there, and even Anti, who has the power to go toe-to-toe with either one alone, can’t hope to beat the two as a pair. It means that every outside figment with even a slight hankering for power is always plotting to overthrow them, to destroy them, or, at the very least, make their lives more difficult. There’s a good chance that whoever took Yandere did so as a power play; by now, every figment out there knows how important Yandere is to both Dark and Wilford.

“Most of the egos Dark mentioned have magic or other abilities that would allow them to imitate Anti,” Plus points out. “Some of them specifically have the power to create illusions. Any of them could have mimicked Anti and taken Yandere.”

“Or,” Bing pipes up, “Maybe one of them is working with Anti. Maybe Anti kidnapped Yandere, but someone else is keeping him prisoner.”

“If that’s true,” Wilford says, “We need to go back to Anti and interrogate him.”

“We’ll have to kill him before he tells us anything and you know that,” Dark snaps, “If Anti truly does have an accomplice, we can find them without his help.”

“Maybe Blind Jim can find out where Stabby Jim is!” RJ exclaims.

The rest of the table looks at Host, who hasn’t spoken up since the meeting began. He’s still holding Dr. Iplier’s hand, and Dr. Iplier still looks like he needs it.

“The Host’s powers do not work that way,” Host says. “He cannot see a past he did not experience. He can only know the present, and know pieces of the future. He cannot yet offer any visions; he will need to explore the timeline before he can.” He thinks for a moment. “It is The Host’s opinion, though, that it would be more productive for the egos to focus on suspects other than Anti, given the points that others have already brought up.”

Dr. Iplier takes a shaky breath and looks around the table to the others.

“If Dark couldn’t find Yandere with his aura, then he wasn’t there,” he says, quiet and strained, “Going after Anti will just waste time and leave Yandere to…” Another breath. “To suffer god knows what at the hands of god knows who.”

“I _know_ it was Anti!” Wilford insists, slamming his hands down on the table. A few sensitive egos yelp in surprise. “Who could’ve replicated Anti’s static so perfectly? Who else could’ve caused the blackout??”

“The _storm_ caused the blackout, you stubborn fool!” Dark shouts back. His shells cracks, splitting down the middle in a scream of frustration.

Dark pauses. He straightens, collecting himself and schooling his aura back into place. The room is deadly silent. Some egos cower, hiding behind companions. Even Wilford seems to know he’s hit Dark’s last nerve. There’s no sound but the pitter-pattering rain outside as Dark regains his composure.

“Let us vote, then,” Dark says at last, steely. “I’m not a dictator; I’ll allow for some democracy. Anyone who wishes that we continue to pursue Anti, say “aye.”

“Aye,” says Wilford, staring at Dark with shining, angry eyes.

He is the only ones who speaks.

“Alright then,” Dark continues, “Anyone who wishes that we explore other suspects, say “aye.”

The room fills with a chorus of voices, every ego but Wilford saying “aye.” Some sound nervous in the room’s tension, but all sound sure of their choice. Wilford looks at no one but Dark. His eyes are pink.

“I trust that I will have your cooperation, Wilford,” Dark says icily. “Surely bringing Yandere home safe is more important to you than being right.”

“Of course I want Yandere safe!” Wilford shouts.

“Good.” Dark’s lips quirk, almost a bitter grin. He checks the time. “It’s quite late, now. We ought to rest and collect our thoughts. There will be another meeting in the morning at 8 a.m. for the core group to discuss a plan of action.” He looks around the table to each older ego. “I expect you all to be on time. The rest of you will get updates as necessary. All are dismissed.”

The egos begin to stand and file out, murmuring to each other in worry. Wilford stays at his end of the table, glowering at Dark. But the bulk of his anger is gone, replaced with exhaustion as the reality of the situation sets in.

Yandere is gone. No one knows where he is. He could be hurt, scared, trapped. Wilford’s _otouto,_ his baby brother, vanished and lost.

Dark remains at the head of the table, staring evenly at Wilford. When the last of the egos leave, he sighs.

“I understand that you’re worried,” he says slowly. “I…I am, too. I care for Yandere as much as you do. Please understand, Wil. Now is not the time for stubbornness.”

“Fine,” Wilford mutters, “Just…fine. I’ll go along, I’ll work with you, just…”

He trails off. He does not continue.

“Get some sleep, Wil,” Dark says, almost gentle. “See you in the morning.”

With that, Dark disappears in a cloud of inky smoke.

Wilford sighs, mutters a curse, and vanishes with a pop and a flash of pink.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time stretches on as the egos look for Yandere. Dr. Iplier waits for his boy to come home.  
> Warnings: Lil bit of needles at the end ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The egos are looking for Yandere, but something else might find them first... ;3
> 
> Enjoy!

Time passes. The younger egos worry. The main egos search.

The Googles key into every security camera in the city, Silver Shepherd triples the scope of his patrols. The Host locks himself in his library for hours, combing through the time stream with his narration until his throat is sore and his cheeks are slicked with blood. Bim reaches out to his many human contacts, as does Ed Edgar. King even orders his squirrels to explore where humans can’t, to keep an eye out. Dark and Wilford hunt down and question other figments, grilling them for information. The whole time, Dr. Iplier keeps the clinic closed to all but the egos, ready to treat Yandere whenever he’s found.

But he isn’t found.

Days drag on into two whole weeks of relentless searching, and every avenue turns up empty. Not a trace of Yandere is found on any patrol, on any camera, in any building or tunnel or cave. No human contact has seen Yandere, and neither has any other figment. Dark and Wilford continue to search for the more elusive ones, but there’s many they manage to find and interrogate, many hideouts they manage to search through. Each one leads to a dead end, no matter how much they threaten.

They start with the oldest egos, the Septics, just in case they know something they don’t (and because Wilford is still hung up on Anti).

“Come to think of it, we haven’t seen much of Anti lately,” Jackie admits, scratching his neck nervously. “It could be nothing, but it could also mean that he’s planning something. We haven’t found anything at his hideout, but…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But either way, I can’t tell you anything about Yandere. None of us have seen him either, sorry.”

They most recently found and questioned one of the youngest egos, Professor Beauregard, holed up in her laboratory on the outskirts of the city.

“I’m a mad scientist, not an _evil_ one! There’s a difference!” she insists. “Even if I wanted to kidnap one of you for experiments, it wouldn’t be Yandere. He’s unusual, of course, we all are, but he’s fundamentally humanoid. I’d be more interested in one of the androids, or even…” She looks back and forth, from Wilford with his pink-tinged magic to Dark with his crackling aura. “…Any chance you boys could come back once this blows over? Just a few tests, nothing invasive.”

Between her and the Septics, there’s more and more nothing. Dead end after dead end after dead end.

Without human patients to take care of, Dr. Iplier spends most of the time worrying about Yandere.

He knows his boy is tough; he’s seen firsthand how strong he is, inside and out. If a human had taken Yandere, he would’ve freed himself and returned to Ego Inc. within a day or two, Dr. Iplier is sure of that. But they all knew from the beginning that it wasn’t a human, and that’s the root of Dr. Iplier’s worries. The outside figments are wildcards. Yandere hasn’t even seen most of them, but they all know about him. He must have met his match, and now he’s trapped, stuck, imprisoned somewhere no one can find. Dr. Iplier doesn’t want to think about what might be happening to him, but he can’t help it: He has nothing else to do while he waits for news. He fears Yandere being brought to the clinic traumatized, beaten, starved, or already dead, bloody, in pieces.

One night after Yandere’s been missing for several days, Dr. Iplier dreams of wandering somewhere dark and unfamiliar, following Yandere’s cries for help, then his screams of agony, before finding his broken corpse on the ground, still warm. It sends him burrowing into The Host’s arms in tears.

“Where is he?” he sobs helplessly. “Where’s my son? Where’s my baby?”

“I wish I knew, my love,” Host murmurs, holding him close, kissing away his tears. “I wish I knew.”

He has the nightmare again a couple nights later, and again, and again.

Dr. Iplier _misses_ Yandere, he misses him constantly. He feels like a hole’s been cut out of his chest every time he thinks of Yandere. Even happy memories of his son bring tears to his eyes. His hands shake, desperate to hold Yandere again. He feels cold, longing for Yandere’s warmth. Even with Host at his side whenever possible, Dr. Iplier feels lonely without Yandere. He’d settle for just hearing his voice, seeing a photo, something to prove that his boy is still real.

He’s not the only one grieving, though, he knows that much. Yancy is all out of sorts, fidgety and sour and prone to rage in his fear. Dr. Iplier stays out of his way, but ends up having to bandage his torn knuckles after he punches a hole through his bedroom wall in his grief. He hides his face in Lio’s shoulder the whole time, ashamed to be seen in tears. Lio soothes him as Dr. Iplier silently bandages Yancy’s knuckles, and the pair leave quickly once Dr. Iplier’s done.

Chrome is angry, too. Dr. Iplier doesn’t see him at all, but he hears from Plus partway through the two weeks that Chrome ran out his battery searching through security footage for Yandere, ignoring Google’s order to charge. The moment he’d woken up, still charging, he’d left the charging station and went back to work until Google forced him away. He punched a few holes into the wall, too, and didn’t even want to be repaired, claiming it would waste time. Dr. Iplier wonders if Chrome feels guilty about it, for not going to Yandere’s room until he was already gone. Dr. Iplier doesn’t blame him for what happened, but he knows enough about Chrome and his relationship with Yandere to guess at his feelings.

But no one in Ego Inc. seems angrier than Wilford and Dark. Dr. Iplier could forget what shade of brown Wilford’s eyes are; they’ve been neon pink since that first group meeting. He could forget how Dark looks when his aura is calm; it’s been snapping and cracking nonstop for days now. He treats them for the injuries they sometimes collect from going after outside figments, and neither one ever says a word. It’s highly unusual for Wilford, who normally complains about every little stitch, but it’s odd for Dark, too, who always has something to say, for better or worse, about Dr. Iplier’s care. Dr. Iplier finds the pair of them hard to trust, but he doesn’t doubt their love for Yandere. He knows they miss him and worry about him, too, even if they never say so. Dr. Iplier, at least, has Host to turn to for reassurance and comfort. He’s not afraid to show his sadness. But Dark and Wilford are the leaders. They’re responsible for keeping things calm, keeping everyone searching. They have no choice but to stifle their true feelings around the others. Dr. Iplier doesn’t envy either of them.

Even the egos who aren’t close to Yandere, the ones who’ve barely spoken to him, the ones who are normally scared of him, are all worried about him. The entire building trudges along under a dark pall of sadness. They keep searching, they keep looking, they keep finding nothing. Yandere stays gone.

Two weeks after Yandere goes missing, Dr. Iplier is sitting in his clinic once again, alone. Host is back to his visions, digging through the time stream again, searching for any hint of Yandere’s presence in the future. He’ll be stumbling into the clinic at the end of the day, Dr. Iplier knows, but until then, he has nothing but his thoughts for company. He ran out of things to do in the clinic days ago; the place is spotless and fully stocked now. He sighs, thinking of nothing.

Then, the hair on the back of his neck stands up.

He stands from the chair he’s sitting in, instantly on alert. Something’s not right in the room, that much he can tell. He looks around, but sees nothing. He wanders off to the empty patient rooms, peeking in, looking for…he doesn’t know what. Something. He still has goosebumps, but he still doesn’t know why. The rooms are pristine, as ordinary as ever.

The shuttering _clack_ of a closing cabinet sounds from the examination area.

Dr. Iplier rushes back. When he arrives at the cabinets above the counter a few moments later, they’re closed like normal. He opens them, looking inside. Everything seems ordinary, until he notices that the once-neat pile of disposable syringes is disturbed, needles spread all around. There’s also the knocked-over, empty box, one that should be holding a bottle or jar. He takes it, reads the label.

It’s a sedative.

He suddenly realizes he can hear static. How long has that been going on?

Before Dr. Iplier can even turn around, a needle stabs into his neck. He has no time to scream; he can only gasp as the sedative yanks him down into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so short, but next chapter will _more_ than make up for it >:3c


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Iplier finds himself somewhere new, facing Yandere’s kidnapper. The truth comes out and the situation escalates in one horrifying swoop.  
> Warnings: Mind control, violence, blood, death threats, non-con touching, brief suicide mention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where Shit Gets Real >:3
> 
> Also, I put a bunch of references in this chapter. They aren't very subtle, so hopefully you spot them and like them XD
> 
> Enjoy...?

“Hey, wake up already, I only gave you a little bit.”

Dr. Iplier groans. He wakes slowly, confused. It takes him a long moment to remember what happened. But it comes to him moment by moment, the strange feeling, the cabinet closing, the empty box, the static, the syringe, the _static –_

Dr. Iplier gasps awake, jolting into full awareness. He’s sitting in a chair, his arms and legs tied down. He’s somewhere he’s never seen before, somewhere cold and dirty, somewhere with wood floors and wood walls. The person standing in front of him grins, Cheshire-like and sharp.

“There you are! I only needed you out for a minute, it’s been nearly ten.”

Dr. Iplier pales.

“Anti!?”

“Who else?”

Anti stands before Dr. Iplier in his classic black t-shirt and dark, forest-green hair to complement his green-tinged skin. His ears are gauged, his throat is slit and bleeding slightly. His eyes, one bright blue and one glowing green, are glinting with barely-restrained glee.

“Where am I?” Dr. Iplier gasps, trying not to sound afraid. “This isn’t your hideout!”

“No, it’s not,” Anti says, “Or at least, it’s not my main one. I knew you guys would come looking for me, so I figured I needed another place to hide my secrets.” Anti laughs at Dr. Iplier’s bewildered expression. “I’ll admit though, I’ve had this place on reserve for a while, off the grid. Not completely, though. I mean, hello!” He points to himself and glitches, pixels scattering and reforming. “But as much as it could be. We’re out in, oh, what are the words, a little wood cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

“You mean…?”

“Oh no, not _the_ cabin, who knows where that thing is. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s a handy place to have, for sure, especially after your esteemed leaders tore my main hideout apart.” Anti pauses, leaning closer to Dr. Iplier. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

“If you remember their visit,” Dr. Iplier mutters, “You know damn well who we’re looking for.”

“Ohhh, someone’s grumpy!” Anti laughs, as though he’s looking at a hissing kitten. “You won’t be talking so tough in a minute. I have something to show you. You’re only the second Iplier to see this place.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart simultaneously sinks and soars. He knows what Anti means even before he glitches away for a moment and returns with another person.

It’s Yandere. It’s Dr. Iplier’s son, his boy, his baby, the one he’s been missing, the one he’s been lonely for, the one he’s been afraid of losing forever, standing before him in the flesh, whole, alive…but _wrong._

It’s mostly his eyes. There’s no whites, no pupils, no chocolate brown, only static, black and white and lifeless. He faces Dr. Iplier, but he stares through him, seeing nothing. His entire face is slack, mouth open. His hair is dirty, greasy, his normally-bright ruby bangs are now dull and dusty red. His cheek is bruised, as are places on his arms and legs. He’s peppered with cuts, his neck is mottled purple and red, his nails are chipped and dirty. He’s too thin. His breathing is wheezy. He stands limply, like the slightest tap might knock him down, yet his posture is mostly straight, like a doll meticulously positioned.

Or a puppet.

“Yan,” Dr. Iplier gasps, staring at his child with undisguised horror.

“Don’t bother trying to talk to him,” Anti says casually, “He doesn’t care about what anyone has to say but me. He won’t remember this later, anyway.” He points to Yandere’s buzzing, static eyes. “He can barely string together a coherent thought with all the static floating around in his brain right now. So we can talk about anything, no need to worry about what Yan’ll remember.”

“How did you do this?” Dr. Iplier asks, quiet with shock. “There’s measures in place to keep you out…”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you a secret.” Anti leans in towards Dr. Iplier again. “They don’t completely work. I couldn’t manifest all the way; otherwise I would’ve kidnapped him sooner. But I could sneak my static into the things he listened to, I could put glitches in the things he watched.” Anti grins, voice darkening. “I could put little messages into his head about how nice the static is, how pretty it is, how fun it is to listen to it. How fun it is to obey it. To submit. It took some patience, but eventually he was putty in my hands, and none of you suspected a thing.”

“So the storm, the blackout…”

“Actually, that’s the one thing I can’t take credit for.” Anti shrugs. “I still needed a way to manifest in the building, and the storm was my chance. I may have lent some power to the lightning bolt that hit the building, though. And when I left, I made sure to leave a little path through the coding so I could come back after the Googles fixed everything again. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having our lovely chat.”

“You mean you wouldn’t be having your monologue,” Dr. Iplier snaps.

Anti grins again, but there’s something different about it. Before Dr. Iplier can figure out what, Anti raises a hand and strikes Yandere across the face, his nails splitting open Yandere’s cheek.

“Yan!!” Dr. Iplier cries, lurching forward against his bonds.

“I’m in control here,” Anti says, eyes glittering with rage, mouth still grinning. “Yandere is my puppet. You are my prisoner. He already knows his place, and you had better learn yours. I’d hate to have to skin him alive right here in front of you, but I will if you make me.” He glitches a knife into his hand, holds it under Yandere’s chin. “Are you going to make me?”

“No, no, please,” Dr. Iplier begs. A tear runs down his cheek.

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Yandere, for his part, doesn’t even react to the slap. It snaps his head to the side, and he merely slowly turns his head back to face Dr. Iplier again. There’s three lines in his cheek from Anti’s nails, dripping blood down his face.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to Wilford after all,” Anti says with a shrug. “Not that he had any real reason to keep suspecting me; he had no evidence but a hunch and his own paranoia. But you know what they say about broken clocks.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, Jackieboy mentioned how quiet I’ve been lately. I guess you guys had plenty of hints, you just ignored them.”

“How…how do you know about all that?” Dr. Iplier asks, tears still falling from earlier.

“C’mon Doc, don’t you remember my PAX video?” Anti laughs. His hair fades into yellow-green, his eyes turn black. “I’m always there, always watching. I know _everything_. _”_ He laughs again at Dr. Iplier’s shocked expression as his hair and eyes return to normal. “Hey, hey, I wanna show you something cool.”

“Wh…What?” Dr. Iplier asks, feeling as though he has no other choice.

“Watch this.”

Anti steps closer to Yandere, getting into his personal space. Yandere doesn’t react, doesn’t move away.

“Yandere.”

Yandere turns his head and looks at Anti, still expressionless.

“Who’s your senpai?” Anti grins, draping an arm around Yandere’s shoulder.

“You,” Yandere answers without hesitation, voice monotone.

It’s so unlike Yandere, so unlike his normal emotional self, so unlike his normal personality, that Dr. Iplier sobs.

“Try again,” Anti says, prodding Yandere’s bleeding cheek with one finger. “Say my name this time.”

“You are my senpai, Anti-sama,” Yandere says, still dull and lifeless.

“Did you hear that??” Anti cackles, dropping his head into Yandere’s shoulder to laugh. “He used “-sama”!” He grins at Dr. Iplier, all teeth. “I’m his _god_ now.” He looks back to Yandere with a smile that’s almost gentle. “You’ve really taken well to your conditioning. Good boy, Yandere.” He ruffles Yandere’s hair, raking through the greasy strands with his long nails, and while Yandere’s expression doesn’t change, his posture perks up, like some part of him enjoys the praise.

Dr. Iplier just feels sick, seeing Anti pet Yandere’s hair like he used to.

“Don’t touch him,” he gasps.

“Why not?” Anti asks, leaning in close to Yandere, nose to nose. “He doesn’t mind, see?” He takes Yandere’s chin, turns his face forward again, and licks a line up Yandere’s cheek, tongue running a long stripe through the drying blood there.

“Get _away_ from him!!” Dr. Iplier screams, fighting against his restraints, tears pouring down his face in earnest. “Let go of him, _don’t touch my son!!”_

“He’s not your anything, not anymore,” Anti says, straightening but keeping his hands on Yandere’s shoulders. “All he knows now is me. All he cares about is me. If I told him to kill himself for me he’d do it. Wanna see?”

“No, no, no,” Dr. Iplier moans, sagging in his bonds, exhausted and shattered.

“Good.” One of Anti’s clawed fingers runs up Yandere’s neck, stroking over his jugular. “I’m not ready to give up this puppet yet.”

“What do you _want_ with him?” Dr. Iplier asks, weeping. “What do you want from me?”

“Ohhh, _what_ do you _want_ from me??” Anti mocks, hair morphing into a natural dark brown and green eye glowing like a star. “Let me tell you, Doc.” His appearance changes back to normal as he looks down at Dr. Iplier. “I have a plan. And it all started with Yandere here.” He pauses. “Well, actually, it started with _this.”_ He digs in the pocket of his jeans for something, and pulls out a small, skinny, cylindrical vial of purple liquid.

“What is that?” Dr. Iplier asks, mystified as to how this relates.

“This,” Anti says, holding the vial up to the light, “Is a potion that Marvin made. He doesn’t know I have it; I doubt he even knows it’s missing. He has this thing where he likes to make potions he has no intention of using to boost his skills, and then he hoards them all in case they end up being useful someday.” He shakes the vial lightly, and as it sloshes, red and blue peek through the ripples. “He changes their hiding place every week so I don’t find them, but I always do. I’ve been waiting for him to make me something useful, and he finally did.” Anti peers at Dr. Iplier, flashing another shark-toothed grin. “What do you think it does?”

“I…” Dr. Iplier starts, “How would I know?”

Anti lets out a barking laugh.

“Good point,” he admits. “This potion is designed to split beings up into their base essences.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “It’d probably make a normal human explode. But if Marvin took it, he’d probably just lose his magic. If I took it, it might pull away my glitches. Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers with his other hand. “It’s like Bim’s power, how he can pull things apart. But this is much more concentrated, much faster, much stronger. But it’s also one-use only. You’d have to take the whole vial for this to work. And I have a particular victim in mind.”

“Who?” Dr. Iplier asks, dread creeping down his back. A potion like that could cause untold damage to any of the egos.

Anti grins.

“Dark,” he says, like it’s a logical conclusion. “If Dark takes this, I bet it’ll split him apart from his aura, and then it’ll be mine for the taking.” His eyes glint as Dr. Iplier’s widen. “I’ll be the most powerful figment on the planet. I’ll be unstoppable. And _you,”_ He points at Dr. Iplier. “Are going to help me make it happen.”

“What!? No way!!” Dr. Iplier cries. “Why me, anyway? And why take Yandere?? Why not do this yourself!?”

“Are you kidding?” Anti scoffs, “I’m not stupid. There’s no way I could sneak this potion into Dark myself. He’d catch me in an instant, and then it’d be game over. There’s no way I could puppet Wilford, either; if I could, I’d just do that instead of bother with all this.” He puts an arm around Yandere again as he continues. “Really, you were always the best candidate to enact this plan, Doc. No one would ever suspect you, and you’d have ample opportunity. I would’ve just puppeted you, but you’re too close to The Host.” He snarls in annoyance, grip tightening on Yandere’s shoulder. “For a blind guy, he sees fucking everything. So trying to get you directly was too risky. I needed a different way in. I needed leverage.” He looks at Yandere, still impassive and blank, and grins. “I needed Yandere. I knew that so long as I took care not to condition him with someone else in the room, I could make him a puppet right under everyone’s nose. I thought about just making him give Dark the potion, but he’s so fucking in _love_ with him.” Anti grimaces in disgust and grabs Yandere’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks. “If he were just a human I could force him anyway, but he’s a figment, and his whole stupid existence is about being in love with Dark.” He releases Yandere’s cheeks to grab his hair instead. “I didn’t want to risk him shaking off my suggestion in the middle of it. So instead, he’s my leverage. After all…” He looks back to Dr. Iplier. “You’re still the best person to get this potion into Dark. All you need is a push.” He pulls Yandere’s hair, so hard that Yandere is lifted up to stand on his toes. He doesn’t even flinch, but Dr. Iplier does.

“So, what,” Dr. Iplier gasps, mind reeling, “You kidnap and threaten Yandere to make me do your bidding? Is that it?” He glares at Anti. “If you got Dark’s aura you’d kill us all. I can’t let that happen.”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Anti cackles, “You’re between a rock and a hard place. If you refuse my plan outright, well, I’ll probably just keep you here. See if I can make you a puppet without Host breathing down your neck. They might figure it out when I send you back, but I could always just possess you and pretend to be you.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Then I could get Dark, and keep Yandere for a while…but ugh, you might push me out. No, this is the best way.” He finally releases Yandere’s hair, and Dr. Iplier watches a few tufts float to the ground, pulled out by Anti’s forceful grip. Yandere falls back on his heels, almost stumbles, but rights himself back to his original posture. Anti cups Yandere’s chin, turns his face to look into his static-filled eyes. “I might just kill Yandere if you refuse.” He grabs Yandere’s waist with his other hand, pulls him so he’s flush against Anti, chest to chest.

“He’d…” Dr. Iplier forces himself to stay calm, keep down his revulsion. “He’d come back. And in the meantime, we’d find this place, Dark and Wilford will rip you apart, and Yandere will wake up safe at Ego Inc.”

“He might come back,” Anti agrees, hand on Yandere’s chin creeping around to the back of his neck. “He might not, though. And if he did, do you think you’d have enough time to find him? You don’t know where this place is. You can’t even be sure what country this is.” His hand on Yandere’s waist travels, pulling up Yandere’s shirt, nails digging into his back, leaving red lines as they go. “I wonder how many times I’ll have to kill him before it sticks. Probably not many; he’s not as popular as the others. But how will I do it? I could skin him like I threatened to do earlier. I could slit his throat, make us twins. I could strangle him. I could rip out his spine, or his lungs, or his heart. I could make him commit seppuku or eat poison. I could tie him up, release him from my control, and let him be fully aware while I torture him, make him beg me to kill him with his own free will.” Anti grins, leaning his head onto Yandere’s shoulder, into his neck, fangs against Yandere’s skin when he speaks again. “Maybe I could tear out his throat with my teeth, right here, right in front of you.” He breathes in through his nose, ruffling Yandere’s hair, and growls. “I bet his blood is so nice, so warm. I bet it tastes incredible.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Dr. Iplier moans, mindless in terror and grief as he watches Anti put his hands on his son, sickeningly intimate. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him.”

“Does that mean you’ll cooperate?” Anti asks, not pulling away.

Dr. Iplier whimpers, too in shock to sob. He knows helping Anti will lead to ruin. With Dark’s aura, Anti truly _would_ be unstoppable. He’d be at least a match for Wilford, and he’d be able to mow down anyone else in his way. He could capture so many as puppets. The harm he could do is, truly, limitless. He might even go after humans, too, might try to take over anything. With Dark’s aura adding to his power, it might even be possible.

But…there’s still Yandere. There’s still his baby, there’s still his little one. Dr. Iplier could protect Yandere, he and the others could keep him safe, held away from Anti’s destruction. They can reinforce Ego Inc., rebuild the codes to keep Anti out, fight back, resist. They could find a way to destroy him. They could find a way to defeat him.

Dr. Iplier looks up, above Yandere’s head, to look at the timer there, the timer that everyone has, the timer that says how long someone has to live. He’s been avoiding looking at it this whole time, afraid of what he’ll see. But he needs to know. He can’t make a decision without seeing it. Yandere’s time is written in light blue numbers, which is promising; blue means the number can change, it can go lower but it can also go higher. The number is fluctuating up and down rapidly, no, not just fluctuating, _glitching._ The numbers scramble and fuzz up, rippling and crackling like a malfunctioning digital clock. Dr. Iplier’s jaw drops. He’s never seen someone’s time behave like this.

It’s stark, undeniable proof that Yandere’s life is completely in Anti’s hands. Whether he lives longer or dies sooner depends on Anti.

And what Anti does depends on Dr. Iplier.

Dr. Iplier cannot do it. He cannot kill his child, not even for the greater good.

He lets his head drop, ashamed.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he asks Anti, quiet and broken.

He doesn’t see Anti’s grin, but he can imagine it, all pointy teeth and eyes that glint with triumph.

“Look at me,” Anti says, “And pay attention.”

Dr. Iplier lifts his head. Anti finally, _finally_ lets go of Yandere, allowing him to return to his original position, staring emptily at Dr. Iplier.

“I’m going to send you back with the potion,” Anti begins. “You’re not to tell _anyone_ about this conversation. You won’t tell anyone that you saw me, or saw Yandere, or anything else about what happened between us today. You won’t tell them to confront me again, or consider me as a suspect, or anything. If you do, consider our arrangement broken, because I’ll be murdering Yandere the second you let anything slip.” He smirks. “You can’t tell the Googles to revisit the coding keeping me out, either. That counts. You’ll carry that potion, keep quiet, and wait for a good time to use it on Dark. Inject him with it or make him drink it, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It might take a while,” Dr. Iplier mumbles.

“I know that,” Anti says, “I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes. But when the opportunity comes, you better take it. If you hesitate or change your mind, I’ll kill Yandere. But first I’ll sneak back into Ego Inc., take the potion from you, and give it to Dark myself.”

“How do you expect me to hide from The Host?” Dr. Iplier asks, “You said yourself that he knows everything.”

“What did he say before?” Anti asks in return, “Something about not knowing the past?” He grins at Dr. Iplier’s expression. “Told ya, Doc, always watching. Anyway, if you play it cool, he won’t suspect a thing. Once you give Dark the potion, I’ll drop by to snag his aura and return Yandere.”

“Return him _unharmed,”_ Dr. Iplier growls. Anti laughs.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he chuckles, stroking Yandere’s scratched cheek. “But he’ll be free from my control, alive, and in one piece. That much I can promise.” He appears a knife into his hand, approaches Dr. Iplier, and cuts one of his hands free before holding out his own. “Is that a deal?”

Dr. Iplier chews his lip. He doesn’t want to do this. But he doesn’t want to lose Yandere. At the very least, he can agree for now, and figure out a plan later.

“Fine,” he sighs, thoroughly exhausted. He shakes Anti’s hand.

“Excellent.” Anti takes the potion back out of his pocket and gives it to Dr. Iplier.

The vial of purple liquid is surprisingly warm. Dr. Iplier slips it into the pocket of his lab coat. It feels like a hot stone, weighing him down. Anti cuts him completely free, allowing Dr. Iplier to stand. He rubs his wrists, chafed from the rope.

“Alright then,” Anti says, preparing to glitch them back to the clinic.

“Wait!” Dr. Iplier exclaims. “Can I…” He swallows. “Can I say goodbye to Yandere first?” Anti rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t know you anymore, remember?” Anti asks, condescending. “And he’s not going to remember it once I pull the static out of his brain.”

“I know, I know, just, _please,”_ Dr. Iplier begs, “Just for a minute. I’ve missed him so much.”

_“Fine,”_ Anti sighs, like it’s a huge inconvenience. “Make it quick.” He steps out of the way, leaving nothing between Dr. Iplier and Yandere.

Nothing between Dr. Iplier and his boy, the person he’s spent two weeks missing, two weeks waiting for, two weeks fearing he’d never see again.

He rushes to him, hugs him tight, starts stroking his greasy, limp hair. Tears prick his eyes as he holds Yandere close, and Yandere doesn’t react. He doesn’t push away, he doesn’t hug back, he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t relax with relief or flinch with fear. Still, it brings strength to Dr. Iplier’s heart to have his son in his arms again, even if for a moment, even if Yandere won’t remember or care.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing Yandere’s forehead, over and over. “I love you, I love you so much. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this right. I promise I’ll protect you no matter what.” He cups Yandere’s cheeks, mindful of the bruise on one cheek and the scratches on the other. “I’ll get you home again. Just hang in there, baby. It’ll be okay.”

He searches Yandere’s face for a reaction, for a twitch, for any indication of recognition or acknowledgement. There’s none. Yandere’s expression is blank, his eyes are still only static. Tears start to run down Dr. Iplier’s cheeks. He kisses Yandere’s forehead one last time before letting him go.

“I’m ready,” Dr. Iplier whispers through his tears.

“Quit crying,” Anti mutters, disgusted.

Dr. Iplier wipes his eyes with one arm as Anti grabs his other.

Then with a zap, they’re in cyberspace.

Dr. Iplier gasps, looking around himself to see code and binary surrounding him. Anti is electric beside him, zooming through the code, pulling Dr. Iplier with him. They hop from wifi network to hotspot, keeping up with the endless stream, until, suddenly, another zap sounds and Dr. Iplier is standing in his clinic again.

Anti is gone, but the potion remains in Dr. Iplier’s coat pocket.

He collapses into a nearby chair and sobs, and sobs, and sobs.

When The Host comes in that evening for blood transfusions and new bandages, Dr. Iplier is numb enough to act like nothing is amiss, and fixes Host like normal.

_“Normal,”_ he thinks to himself as he helps Host, _“Nothing will ever be normal again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3c


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As agreed, Dr. Iplier tells no one of his discussion with Anti. He turns the conversation over in his mind, trying to make sense of it, find a way out. Eventually, he has no choice but to put Anti’s plan in motion.  
> Warnings: Needles, body horror, death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...things are about to get even crazier. The warnings are no joke here owo"
> 
> Enjoy? ;w;

Two more weeks pass.

For most of the egos, they pass as slowly and skin-crawlingly as the two before. For Dr. Iplier, though, time passes with a completely different timbre.

There’s no longer any uncertainty, no more long nights spent wondering what’s become of Yandere, where he could be, why he was taken. No, Dr. Iplier is now kept awake thinking of Yandere in Anti’s clutches, fearing how Anti might be hurting him at any moment, and staring at his bedside table, staring at the drawer that has the potion tucked inside, at the very back corner.

Dr. Iplier keeps it close, too afraid to have it out of arm’s reach for even a moment. At night it’s in the drawer, during the day it’s in a pocket, whether it be his coat pocket if he’s working or pants pocket if he’s not. He still doesn’t want to use it, still doesn’t want to force it into Dark, but the more he thinks the situation over, the more trapped he feels.

He cannot tell anyone anything, or Yandere will die. Anti will kill him horribly, make him suffer, and even if he comes back to life, he’ll have that death hanging over him forever, have that traumatizing memory as a part of him for the rest of the life he does live. Dr. Iplier knows how death can haunt a figment; he’s helped Host through many a nightmare, bandaged his eyes many a time. Host is not broken, but he is not the man he was before he died. Death changed him. Death will change Yandere. And that’s only if the egos can find him before Anti kills him again, and again, until he finally fades away forever.

Not to mention, Dr. Iplier reasons, there’s no way to be certain of exactly how the potion will affect Dark. All Anti knows is that it “splits people into their base essences,” and that could mean anything. For someone like Dark, who’s a jigsaw of souls and monsters, there’s any number of ways the effect could manifest. Dark might not even lose his aura at all; it might be so much a part of him now that it’s impossible to pull away. Even if the potion does split them up, Dark’s aura has a mind of its own. Anti seemed so sure he could snatch it up, but could he really? The aura is where Dark’s power comes from; it’s strong, dangerous, volatile, but most importantly, made for Dark. How could anyone else possibly control it? Dr. Iplier wishes he could talk these questions out with someone, or even ask Bim about the potion and what, hypothetically, something like it could do. But Dr. Iplier doesn’t dare; there’s no way Anti would allow it.

Dr. Iplier doesn’t see Anti at all after that fateful meeting, but he knows he’s there. He feels static crackle in the air when he’s alone. He catches glitches on his cell phone, hears weird background noise on the TV. Even his coffee machine fritzes and buzzes. Sometimes Dr. Iplier considers giving in and telling someone about the situation, and those are the times that he swears he can see Anti out of the corner of his eye. But he’s never there when Dr. Iplier whips around to look. The lights in the clinic flicker. He hears echoes of Anti’s laughter when he listens to music. The lightbulb in his bedside lamp blows out completely. Through it all, the static buzzes quietly, insidious, barely on the edge of Dr. Iplier’s awareness. As the days pass, he thinks he might lose his mind before he has the chance to give the potion to Dark.

Even more maddening is the fact that no one notices anything. Dr. Iplier is too paranoid to give anything away, but he fears that even his paranoia is obvious and visible. But he’s well-practiced in hiding emotion, in hiding discomfort, sadness, fear. He does as much for his patients all the time to keep them calm. He can make his expression neutrally pleasant, he can will his voice not to shake. It’s not fun or effortless, but it’s doable. Dr. Iplier finds himself doing it all the time, every time he interacts with another person. He starts to feel detached, dull, fake. He hopes for someone to notice at the same time he fears any questions.

Not even The Host, as powerful and omniscient as his narration is, has spotted a thing. But Dr. Iplier knows why: Host trusts him. Host isn’t above using his narration to uncover a lie, but he doesn’t believe Dr. Iplier would lie to him. He never even seems to consider narrating Dr. Iplier’s current thoughts or state of mind. The moment he does, he’ll know everything, but he just…doesn’t. He doesn’t feel the need to. Dr. Iplier feels sick, like he’s betraying his love’s trust every time they interact. Before Dr. Iplier met with Anti he could at least gain comfort from Host’s presence. Now, being around Host only makes him feel guilty and even more anxious, even more paranoid.

Dr. Iplier barely eats, barely sleeps. He drinks more coffee, hoping the buzz of caffeine will drown out the static. Everyone sees his erratic behavior as fear, as worry for Yandere, and that’s still partly true. For every moment Dr. Iplier spends worrying about being caught, about incurring Anti’s wrath, he spends five hoping that Yandere is still okay, hoping he isn’t too horribly hurt, hoping that Anti hasn’t lost patience and killed him already. Dr. Iplier becomes cagey, avoidant, perpetually unsettled. He spends long nights in Host’s arms and tries to quiet his thoughts, tries to resist the impulse to pull away. No one sees a thing. No one suspects. No one questions.

Just when Dr. Iplier thinks he’s finally going to lose his mind after two long weeks of static and paranoia and crushing, guilty fear, Dark ends up in the clinic.

Dark and Wilford had, by some miracle, managed to track down Infelix and question him. The already erratic figment hadn’t taken kindly to being accused, and he’d surprised Dark by attacking, shooting his characteristic blue flame out of his hands and into Dark’s chest. Wilford subdued Infelix and left with Dark, but Dark was already badly hurt.

Dr. Iplier spends a few hours operating on him, cutting burnt tissue and stitching the gaps left behind. When it’s over, he assures Wilford that Dark will be fine. At first, Wilford is unwilling to leave. Normally he’d only be mildly worried and accept giving Dark space to recover, but Yandere’s long disappearance has made him jumpy and easily upset. Dr. Iplier can’t help but relate. He finally gets Wilford to leave by insisting that allowing Dark visitors could open him up to infection (which, despite the existing circumstances, is true; his burns are severe and infection is a huge risk…not that it matters now).

Then, Dr. Iplier is alone, with Dark sleeping off anesthesia a few rooms over. He expects no visitors for at least an hour, when the Host will be coming in for his weekly bandage change. The whole floor is nearly empty. The only people there right now other than Dr. Iplier are the Googles, who have no doubt plugged themselves into security feeds from across LA, preventing them from hearing or seeing anything else.

This is the moment Anti’s been waiting for.

This is Dr. Iplier’s chance.

But…

He finds himself standing at Dark’s bedside, watching as he sleeps. He’s hooked up to a heart monitor (Dr. Iplier did it out of reflex before the surgery), but of course the line is still. Dark’s heart hasn’t once beat for as long as Dr. Iplier’s known him. His chest is motionless, breathless as usual, but covered in gauze. His face managed to avoid Infelix’s flame, and Dr. Iplier can’t help but notice how unhealthy he looks. A bit silly to observe: Dark never looks healthy, he looks like the walking corpse he is. But the bags under his eyes seem twice as deep, his gray skin is a shade lighter, his normally well-trimmed facial hair is getting overgrown. He’s wearing his anxiety, his fear, his longing for Yandere as clearly as they all are, as clearly as Wilford is, as clearly as Dr. Iplier is.

Dr. Iplier takes that godforsaken vial out of his lab coat pocket. It’s as warm as it was when Anti first gave it to him, still purple, still swirling red and blue.

“I can’t do this,” he gasps, barely audible, “It’ll hurt him, it could kill him, I…”

The static rises in his ears.

The heart monitor glitches, pixels striping across the screen.

Anti’s here. Anti’s watching.

_If you hesitate or change your mind, I’ll kill Yandere. But first I’ll sneak back into Ego Inc., take the potion from you, and give it to Dark myself._

Dr. Iplier has run out of time to think, to deliberate, to decide. He has to act now.

He leaves Dark to go to the same cabinet he opened two weeks ago, the same cabinet Anti stole sedatives from. He finds a syringe that looks big enough to fit the entire vial, and a still-wrapped needle. His movements are mechanical as he uncaps the vial, puts the mouth of the syringe inside, and pulls the plunger, filling the syringe with the strange liquid. Not a single drop clings to the vial, it all sucks up into the syringe cleanly, leaving a perfectly empty vial. As if Dr. Iplier needed further reminder of how unnatural the liquid is. He attaches the needle to the syringe and takes it back to Dark’s room.

The static builds as Dr. Iplier approaches Dark again. It’s not intentionally threatening this time, but excited, anticipatory as Dr. Iplier holds the syringe above Dark, who remains asleep.

Dr. Iplier gives it one last moment, one last chance for Dark to wake earlier than expected, for someone to walk into the clinic suddenly.

Nothing happens, except for the heart monitor glitching again.

Dr. Iplier sighs shakily.

 _“This is for Yandere,”_ he tells himself as he leans down to Dark’s arm, _“This is to save my son. I have to do it. I promised to protect him. I said I’d bring him home. I have no choice. The others could’ve noticed. They could’ve stopped me. But they…_

_They just watched.”_

He swears he can hear Anti laughing at him.

He finds a vein, holds the needle to it.

It’s now or never.

He takes a deep breath and depresses the plunger, sending the potion through the needle and into Dark’s arm over several long moments. The potion doesn’t react immediately; it doesn’t stay visible under the skin or eat it away or burn. It merely behaves like any other injection as it disappears into Dark’s arm. Finally, the entire potion is inside Dark, not a single drop stuck within the syringe.

Dr. Iplier pulls away from Dark’s arm and waits with shaking hands.

For several seconds, nothing happens. Dark continues to sleep. Dr. Iplier hardly dares to breathe. Even the static is quiet. It’s like the whole world has gone silent, waiting to see what the potion does.

And then, suddenly, it does.

Dark’s aura rears up and flails around him as Dark’s back arches off the bed and he _howls._ Dr. Iplier jumps back as the veins in Dark’s arm turn purple, color traveling up his arm to his chest, down his torso and legs and up his neck, spreading like wildfire. Dark screams again, agonized and suffering, and falls out of bed in his effort to escape the pain, hitting the ground hard. He hardly seems to notice, curling in on himself and clutching his arm, crying out in pain. His aura waves wildly, knocking things off nearby shelves and pushing over the heart monitor, letting it hit the ground with a crash. The aura flashes, snaps, adds its own howl to Dark’s screams, echoing so harshly that Dr. Iplier’s ears start to ring. He rushes to Dark without thinking, reaching out to pull him from the floor. Dark’s head snaps up, and three shadows of himself react the same, each half a second apart. Dr. Iplier’s breath catches in his throat. Dark’s eyes dart to Dr. Iplier’s hand.

He realizes he never let go of the syringe.

Dark forces himself to his feet, and Dr. Iplier scrambles backwards, hyperventilating. Dark staggers forward, still holding his arm, now so purple-black with magic that his skin can barely be seen. A shadow of himself screams, and his aura whips, snaps around to Dark, and the scream ends by coming out of Dark’s throat. His form starts to wobble, wavering in the air like heat off a grill as Dr. Iplier looks on in horror.

 ** _“W̶̮̹̓ḧ̸͍͍́̄a̵̦̙̾̉t̴̛̘͔ ̸̤͑̂h̷̛͍͜͠à̴̳̘̽v̶̻̳͗͛e̸̥̯͝ ̸̞͌̚y̴̹̯͑̽o̵̟͍͂ů̶͎ ̸̧̨͒d̶͖̞̎o̴̘͕͝n̸̫̝͠e̷̢͌?̴̳”_** Dark roars over the rushing wind, the cracking, the howling.

“I…” Dr. Iplier gasps. The syringe hits the floor with a _tap._ “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Dark’s head snaps back without his control, crunching loudly as he screams. Louder still are the screams from around him, from inside him. Mirages and shadows scratch at his arm, pull at his own hair, curl up and sob with agony. The purple of the potion branches off into his neck, his face. His eyes are pitch. His form starts to blur as blue and red lights appear, pulling themselves apart as his aura shivers and stretches.

Finally, with one last crackling wail, an explosion of light and dark encompasses Dark, bright and void together like the death of a star. Dr. Iplier is forced to shield his eyes as the force of the explosion pushes him back against the wall. A layered moan resounds in the air as the lightshow ends and the cacophony quiets.

Dr. Iplier uncovers his eyes to see three people standing where Dark used to be.

The one in the middle crumbles into ash before Dr. Iplier can get a good look at them. The other two collapse where they stand, hitting the ground unconscious. There’s a man, bearded and scruffy, and a woman, dark hair in a bun and harsh bags under her eyes. Both are dressed for the cold outdoors. They look similar, like siblings.

Meanwhile, Dark’s aura, smoky and black and radiating power, spirits around the room like a vengeful ghost, echoing and screeching, searching for a host.

“Oh god,” Dr. Iplier breathes.

An electric, crackly pop sounds from behind Dr. Iplier, and he turns to see Anti standing there, one arm around a static-eyed Yandere, and one arm clutched around his own gut as he laughs, manic and gleeful.

“Great work, Doc!” Anti cackles, “I really thought you were gonna chicken out, but you did it! And it couldn’t have worked any better.”

“Dark’s dead,” Dr. Iplier gasps.

“Yep,” Anti chirps, grinning. “You’re the one who killed him.”

Dark’s aura descends from the ceiling to examine Yandere and Anti. It passes over Yandere immediately but gravitates towards Anti, curious and much quieter than it was a moment ago. Anti lifts a hand to it, and it winds around his fingers. It starts to whisper something that Dr. Iplier can’t understand from his distance, but Anti can, and he grins.

“I think it likes me,” he laughs. He walks past Dr. Iplier into the room, whistling at the mess. Yandere mindlessly follows. Anti tilts his head as he looks at the two people curled up on the floor. “Wow, guess Dark really _was_ two siblings in a trench coat like the fans keep saying, huh?”

“We had a deal,” Dr. Iplier says, trying not to sound so shaken. “You said if I did this then you’d–”

“I know, I know, I’d give up Yandere,” Anti sighs, as though he’s dealing with a petulant child. He looks over at Yandere, who’s still staring at Anti with wide, static-filled eyes. Anti doesn’t even speak, just snaps his fingers.

Yandere blinks. His eyes clear of static. Then they roll back into his head and he collapses. Dr. Iplier lets out a wordless shout as he scrambles to catch him, barely managing to keep him from a hard landing.

“Yan, sweetheart,” he says, voice shaking, putting his fingers to his neck for a pulse.

“Don’t be so dramatic, he’s fine,” Anti says. The aura is surrounding him more fully now, wrapping itself around his arms, legs, torso, whispering through his hair. “He’s been mind-controlled for a month, he’s gotta sleep it off. He’ll remember most of it, but not my conversations with you.”

At the very least, Anti’s telling the truth about Yandere’s condition. His pulse is normal, his breathing is fine. Despite that, Yandere looks even worse than he did two weeks ago. The bags under his eyes are deep and dark, his cheeks are gaunt, his hair is limp and dirty. His face is bruised, his lip is split, there’s blood crusting his nostrils. His neck is bruised all over, yellow faded bruises overlapping awful red and purple ones. His arms are lined with cuts. There’s old, dried blood on his clothes, and Dr. Iplier thinks that, for once, it’s Yandere’s own.

But he’s alive. He’s alive, and he’s free, and he’s back in Dr. Iplier’s arms, for good this time.

“Well,” Anti says, “Thanks for the help. I’d say I owe you one, but nah.” He pauses. “Actually, I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” Dr. Iplier lifts his head from Yandere.

“You don’t have to keep all this a secret anymore.” Anti grins. “You can tell everybody what happened and what you did if you want. It doesn’t matter to me anymore, since I have what I want.”

“W-Won’t they find out either way?”

“Nope, I glitched out the cameras in here before you injected Dark, to make sure no one could see and stop you. No one’ll know your part in this unless you tell them.” Anti peers down at Dr. Iplier with a cruel glint in his eye. “The question is, will you admit to what you’ve done, or will you hide the truth like a coward?”

Dr. Iplier’s jaw drops. The enormity of what he’s done crashes down on him.

“I had to,” he gasps, unsure of who he’s talking to. “I had to do it, I had no choice, I–”

“Save it for people who care,” Anti says. The aura (no, Anti’s aura now, isn’t it?) engulfs Anti like a cloak over his body. “Well, I’m done here, but I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.” He grins like a devil. “Bye for now, Doc.”

With that, Anti vanishes in a crackle of static, and Dr. Iplier is left alone. Alone, with Yandere unconscious in his arms and Damien and Celine unconscious on the floor.

He should get up. He needs to get them all into hospital beds, check their conditions, treat those who need it. But he can’t bring himself to get up from where he kneels on the floor, Yandere in his lap. Dr. Iplier is shaking, wide-eyed, trying to process everything that happened in the last five minutes. Trying to fathom how much has changed.

He hasn’t been sitting there very long when he hears the clinic door burst open, followed by running footsteps that stop short when they get close.

“What happened?” asks The Host.

“You’re early,” Dr. Iplier says, barely a breath. It’s the first thing that comes to his mind to say. He manages to turn his head over his shoulder to look at Host, at his expression of nonspecific concern.

“I knew something was wrong,” Host answers, “I could sense that something terrible was going to happen. What’s going on?”

 _“This is your chance, tell him the truth!”_ Dr. Iplier’s mind screams at him. _“Tell him what happened, tell him about Yandere, the deal, what happened to Dark. He has to know so he and the others can start fixing this. He has to know because you love him and you can’t betray his trust! Tell him! Tell him everything!!”_

But Dr. Iplier has no words. He can barely speak at all. He is a coward.

“I don’t know,” he gasps, nearly sobbing.

The Host starts to narrate, soft and under his breath. He’s close enough for Dr. Iplier to hear, and for Dr. Iplier to see his face change as his narration unveils what lays before him. He narrates Dr. Iplier, crouched on the ground holding a bruised and bloody Yandere. He narrates Damien and Celine laying on the floor, narrates the little pile of ash between them. He narrates the mess of the room, the overturned monitor and broken shelves, the static still clinging to the air. But through it all, he does not reach into Dr. Iplier’s mind. He does not probe into what Dr. Iplier is thinking, he does not narrate what Dr. Iplier saw. His narrations go no deeper than Dr. Iplier’s presence on the ground, the look on his face. The Host suspects nothing.

“It must have been Anti,” Host says, voice tight to match the shock and anger warring in his expression. “His static is lingering here. But my narrations won’t tell me what he did. Only that Dark…” He breathes in. “That Dark has been destroyed, and Yandere has been returned. My love, are you sure you don’t know anything?”

It’s not out of suspicion that Host asks this, only desperation. He’s not used to not knowing.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Iplier repeats, over the aching of his own heart. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;w;
> 
> If you couldn't read Dark's last words, they were "What have you done?" Can we get an F in chat 😔🙏


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The egos attempt to adjust to Yandere’s return and Dark’s absence - a task made much harder when Damien wakes up.  
> Warnings: Mild references to death and torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a good bit calmer than the last one, and hey, it's time for our favorite soft mayor boy to shine! Silver linings! :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Dr. Iplier misses most of the immediate aftermath thanks to shock. Host is the one who takes charge, getting the Googles in the loop to see what they can find, letting Wilford know of what’s happened. Dr. Iplier doesn’t know the details, especially not after Plus gives him a sleeping pill and makes him go to bed to recover. He’s sleeping when the rest of the egos are told what happened in a meeting, sleeping when Yandere, Damien, and Celine are put into hospital beds.

But he’s awake when Yandere’s friends come into the clinic to see him. Dr. Iplier is triple-checking the IVs that Plus gave him, triple-checking his bandages, fussing endlessly over him. If he focuses on how relieved he is to see his baby home and safe again, then he can think less about what happened to Dark and about the other two people in his clinic.

Chrome and Yancy visit Yandere first. Rather, Chrome visits first; Yancy comes in with him but hangs back, out of the room, knowing how much closer Chrome is to Yandere than Yancy is. Dr. Iplier is still in the room, though, unwilling to let Yandere out of his sight for even a moment. Chrome ignores him completely, eyes trained on Yandere from the moment he steps through the doorway. He sits by him in a chair Dr. Iplier already put there, and at first all he does is touch Yandere’s cheek, gently, lightly, and stare at him with a strained expression, like there are sobs burning in his throat that he can’t release. He scans him, Dr. Iplier can tell by the way his eyes move. Chrome scans Yandere multiple times, reassuring himself that Yandere’s actually here, that he’s alive, that he’s not dreaming after going a month without a clue where his best friend was. Eventually, he cups Yandere’s cheeks with both hands and presses his forehead to Yandere’s, whispering to him in Japanese so no one else can understand. Still, Dr. Iplier catches the word _“onii-san”_ more than once. The more he speaks, the more his voice chokes up and the more tears start to roll down his cheeks. Finally, he stands to go, leaving Yandere after giving him the lightest, softest peck on the forehead.

Yancy is much less emotional. It’s clear he’s relieved, his shoulders sag with it at the sight of Yandere, and he sits by him and keeps a hand over his as he tells him what he missed in the month he was gone. He’s guarded, though, wary of Dr. Iplier in the room with him. Normally Dr. Iplier would leave and let Yancy be alone with Yandere, but he can’t make himself leave his baby now. He wonders if Yancy would cry like Chrome did if he left. Yancy still shows a little softness around Yandere, holding his hand gently in his own and eventually singing a little to him, quiet and light. He spends less time with Yandere than Chrome did, but looks happier than Chrome when he leaves.

Wilford, though, is a whole different beast.

Dr. Iplier doesn’t see how he reacts the first time he sees Damien and Celine, doesn’t know firsthand how he took the news of Dark’s death. But Host does tell him about how the news twisted his mind up, ripped open the old denial and put something new in its place. After the meeting he locked himself in his room for hours and just stayed there, screaming. When he finally came out again, he was numb, raw, shattered. Dr. Iplier wonders if Wilford feels anything like how he himself felt after he first met with Anti, or right after Anti left with Dark’s aura. Either way, it takes Wilford a couple days to work up the nerve to even enter the clinic to see Yandere, much less Damien and Celine. All three are still unconscious; Yandere is healing and should wake up in a few more days, Damien could wake at any moment, and Celine is so deep in a coma she might not wake up at all. Yet Wilford is still afraid to even look at either of the twins; he pointedly avoids doing so when he comes in to see Yandere. It’s like he’s suddenly aware of how fragile his own mind is, and doesn’t want to crack it any further.

For all his complicated feelings, though, the one thing he’s certain of is how much he missed Yandere, how relieved he is that he’s back home and safe again. He says as much when he goes to Yandere’s bedside, sitting in the chair there.

“I’m glad he’s here,” he murmurs, half to Dr. Iplier and half to himself. “I’m happy he’s alive, I don’t…I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t, at this point.”

Dr. Iplier hardly hears Wilford talk so seriously about death, but then, he rarely sees Wilford so lucid. His eyes are clearer than they’ve ever been, but his clothes are rumpled, his hands shake, and he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping.

“Me either,” Dr. Iplier says honestly. “He’ll be okay, though. He’ll wake up soon.”

“That glitch…” Wilford’s expression twists up. “I told Dark. I _told_ him it was Anti. But no one believed me. I knew it was Anti, and now, that–” He breathes in roughly. “–that goddamned glitch is trying to take everything from me.” He takes Yandere’s much-smaller hands in his own, squeezing gently. “If he never brought Yan back, we never would’ve found him.”

Dr. Iplier ducks his head. It’s the truth; he knows that better than Wilford does. His secret weighs down on him still; he has yet to reveal it to anyone. He knows he should, but he’s still too afraid.

“And Dark…” Wilford laughs a little. “He kept telling me they weren’t coming back. I was almost starting to believe him. Maybe. I don’t know anymore. I feel like I don’t know anything. What if they wake up? What will they be like, after so long? What…” He looks down at his own hands, still holding Yandere’s. “What will they think of me?”

Dr. Iplier has no answers.

“Damien will probably wake up soon,” he says gently, “So you’ll find out in a day or two.”

“Hm.” Wilford sighs and shakes his head. “I thought I’d be so happy when we found our little mochi.” He moves one hand to Yandere’s cheek, cupping it and slowly running his thumb over the cheekbone. “I thought I’d be bouncing off the walls with excitement. And I am happy he’s back, I’m so so happy, just…” He smiles a little, bittersweet. “I thought Dark would be here for this, too.” His smile fades as quickly as it came. “What’s Yanny going to think when he finds out what happened to Dark?”

Dr. Iplier doesn’t even want to think about it. Wilford appears to be imagining it, but shakes his head again before long, trying to dispel the thoughts. He leans down to Yandere and kisses the cheek he isn’t touching, more gently than Dr. Iplier’s ever seen Wilford kiss Yandere before. Then he moves up and does it again, kissing the top of Yandere’s head.

“I love you, otouto,” he whispers against Yandere’s hair, “We’ll figure this out. I’ll be right here, and so will Doc.” He glances expectantly at Dr. Iplier.

“Yeah, of course,” Dr. Iplier says, voice quiet and tired, “I’ll always be right here.”

Wilford smiles again, a little brighter than before. He looks like a leader, and good thing, too: With Dark gone, Wilford’s the boss of Ego Inc. He’s the one in charge of fixing this mess, and of protecting the other egos in the meantime, with Host as the new second-in-command. It’s Dr. Iplier’s understanding that Dark arranged this all long ago, and that there’s a whole plan of succession in case something happens. If anything happens to Wilford now then Host will lead, and Google will be his second. As for how much further down the line the plan goes, Dr. Iplier doesn’t know. Wilford probably does. Dr. Iplier wonders if _he’s_ in the line somewhere, if he’d find himself leading the group if the stronger egos were decimated somehow.

_“Leaders should probably be honest,”_ the voice in his head reminds him, and Dr. Iplier shuts down the whole train of thought.

Those first few days without Dark are difficult. The other egos, even the ones who hated Dark, are reeling from his death and from the possibility of Damien and Celine walking among them. They’re relieved to have Yandere back, of course, but their relief is eclipsed by the fear of what Anti plans to do next. They know he caused this from the static Host found at the scene, and they can guess that Anti made off with Dark’s aura, considering that it was nowhere to be found. A few people question Dr. Iplier and try to jog his memory of the incident. Dr. Iplier can’t blame them; he was the only one there who could’ve seen, and it’s not like he doesn’t know what happened. But he’s still too scared to tell, even as his conscience screams at him to. If Host peeked into his mind he could figure it out ( _“why won’t he, why won’t he just figure it out already, why can’t he just read my mind so I don’t have to tell anyone–”_ ), but too much time has passed for narrating the event itself to be of any use. Host instead tries to figure out what Anti is planning, tries to reach out the threads of his narration to Anti’s thoughts, but the glitch has always been a wild card and excellent at evading Host’s predictions.

Wilford, despite finally recovering from the shock of everything, has yet to do much. He seems at a loss for how to address the situation, other than wait for someone to wake up and see if any new information can be found. He does manage to get into a shouting match with Google over Ego Inc.’s security measures, and how they must not have been strong enough if Anti was able to kidnap Yandere and return to kill Dark. He still can’t bring himself to visit Damien or Celine, even as he visits Yandere.

That’s why Dr. Iplier is the only one there when, five days after Dark dies, Damien wakes up.

He’s still in the winter clothes he appeared with, the ones from his video. His air is still long, he still has his grown-in beard. Despite monitoring him often in between taking care of Yandere and checking on Celine, Dr. Iplier is still shocked to be seeing him in the flesh, to have this person in front of him. He can’t help but wonder what he’ll remember, if he’ll remember anything at all from after he became part of Dark. Despite knowing that Damien would wake soon from his strong and steady vital signs, Dr. Iplier nearly gasps when Damien’s eyes slowly open. Dr. Iplier approaches him, watching him rouse. The first expression to cross his face is confusion.

“What…” Damien starts, “What on earth…”

“You’re alright, Damien,” Dr. Iplier tells him, somehow keeping his voice gentle and even despite his racing heart. “I know this is strange, but you need to stay calm. Do you know who I am?”

Damien looks at Dr. Iplier, and his uncertain gaze tapers into something like recognition.

“I do,” he says, as though this fact is new to him, “I remember…I’m remembering some things. You’re Dr. Iplier.”

Damien’s voice is a lot like Dark’s, but softer, kinder, even after everything he’s gone through. He speaks carefully and eloquently despite his confusion. It reminds Dr. Iplier of how Dark defaults to cold composure for every situation, but Damien’s speech, though just as refined, is much warmer.

“Why am I…” Damien’s brow furrows as he tries to describe what he means. “Why am I…here? Why am I not a…a fragment, or a part of Dark anymore?”

“Dark was killed,” Dr. Iplier tells him, heart splitting the way it always does whenever he lies by omission, “We suspect it was Antisepticeye, if you recall who he is. He did something that split Dark apart, so here you are.”

“I recall Anti,” Damien answers, realization dawning. “If Dark split apart, then…then…”

“Celine is here, too,” Dr. Iplier says, “She’s in another room. You can see her once I clear you to leave the clinic, but that shouldn’t take long. Your vitals are strong; you seem well.”

“Is she awake?” Damien’s eyes are wide, shimmering with hope. Dr. Iplier realizes Damien probably hasn’t properly spoken with Celine in a long, long time.

“No,” Dr. Iplier admits.

“Ah, well, when will she wake up, then?”

“I…I don’t know if she will,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, sympathetic. The expression on Damien’s face is hard to look at. “She’s stable and there’s no danger of her condition worsening, but she’s completely comatose. I’m sorry, Damien.”

“I…I suppose that makes sense,” Damien mumbles, looking away. “It would’ve been nice if…nevermind.” He shakes his head. “What about the rest of Dark?”

Dr. Iplier can’t imagine how Damien must be feeling, yet he’s able to turn it off and address the situation at hand. Like a true politician…or like a doctor.

“Dark’s aura is gone,” Dr. Iplier explains, “It looks like Anti might have stolen it. The body Dark used is gone, too. It disintegrated after Dark split apart.”

“I see.”

A pause.

“You’re taking all this remarkably well,” Dr. Iplier ventures.

“Thank you,” Damien replies, giving a brittle smile, “But I daresay I don’t have any choice _but_ to take this well. I haven’t been myself in a long time, yet…” He thinks. “It feels less like returning from the dead and more like…coming back from a holiday, to a workplace that’s changed since I was there last. I have a lot of Dark’s memories, but they feel disconnected from me.” He looks down at his hands. “It feels both like one day and one hundred years have passed since I was endlessly cutting down trees and living in a cabin with my sister.”

Dr. Iplier doesn’t know what to say to that.

Fortunately, at least, Damien is in perfect health. Dr. Iplier gives him a full physical just to be sure, and he can’t help but look for the similarities between Damien and Dark. There are many, to be sure, but even more striking turn out to be the differences: Damien breathes, blood pulses through his veins, his heart beats against the head of Dr. Iplier’s stethoscope. He stands as straight as Dark did but without the strain of holding up broken bones. His body is free of scars, including the bullet hole that Dark had in his chest. His eyes are lighter than Dark’s, more brown than black. His facial hair is grown in more evenly than Dark’s, his hair is straighter.

As the exam comes to a close, Wilford comes in. He might have been intending to check on Yandere, but he sees Damien first. Dr. Iplier sees Damien react, sees his eyes widen, as though Dark’s memories are rushing into his mind, one at a time, reminding him of who Wilford used to be and who he’s become. Wilford, conversely, is stunned still. For once, he knows exactly what he’s seeing, and it’s something he’d given up on ever seeing again, even if deep down.

“Dames,” he half-laughs, voice softening to a tone it hasn’t had in many years. “Old friend, it’s been too long.”

“Not truly,” Damien answers, smiling a little. “I remember what Dark remembers, I still…I still know you.”

That’s all Wilford needs to rush at Damien – Dr. Iplier barely has enough time to get out of the way – and scoop him up in a bear hug, laughing and crying.

“Oh, you scoundrel!” Wilford exclaims, “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you??”

“I’ve been there the whole time, my friend,” Damien says, laughing a little but mindful of Wilford’s tears. “I missed being myself, and I missed you, too.”

“Well! You’ll have to tell me what you think of everything that’s happened these past few years.”

“…You mean everything that’s happened since Dark was created?”

“Of course! I need every detail! We need to get properly caught up after all.”

Dr. Iplier, despite himself, can’t help but smile a little at Wilford’s excitement and Damien’s bewilderment. He probably remembers enough about Wilford to know that the man’s completely serious about wanting every single detail. Dr. Iplier ducks away to give them privacy, as well as check on Yandere again.

His boy. The one he killed Dark for.

Yandere looks a lot better than he did when Anti first brought him here: Figments heal fast, and Yandere is no exception. His bruises and cuts have mostly healed, and only his neck is still mottled yellow and muddy purple. He’s still too thin, but IV nutrients have brought color back into his skin, his lips are no longer so cracked with dehydration. Some bigger gashes are still mending, with one across his stomach being particularly stubborn. But even that is getting better, beginning to scar instead of continuing to fester. Scars fade, scars are not permanent for egos.

But Dr. Iplier can’t help but fear the emotional scars Yandere might carry. Anti said that Yandere would remember nothing from the moments Anti clouded his mind with static, but what about the rest of his time with Anti? How much will Yandere remember about being kidnapped, controlled, tortured? And there was clearly torture. Not enough to risk death, but enough to have made Yandere miserable: Locked muscles from being forced into cramped positions, scar tissue from repeated limb dislocations, abnormal changes in body chemistry from ingesting no-longer-identifiable poisons, all hiding beneath the more obvious deep gashes and bloody bruises. Yandere is tough, but this is unlike anything he’s ever been made to suffer before. This is nightmarish. Dr. Iplier almost hopes Yandere remembers nothing at all, but wouldn’t that be equally frightening? To one moment be watching TV in his room, and the next to be waking in a clinic bed, exhausted and injured, with an entire month wiped from his mind? And that’s to say nothing of how Yandere will feel when he realizes that the man he loves was killed during his absence. Dr. Iplier tries to imagine it, wonders what it’d be like for himself, if he were to wake after a month of being puppeted and tortured only to find that The Host was dead. He shudders, has to force the thought away. But Yandere won’t be able to turn it off.

Dr. Iplier sits by Yandere for a while, wondering if he’ll wake today. But it seems unlikely judging from his vitals, and Dr. Iplier is equal parts relieved and disappointed.

He leaves then to check on Celine, and finds that Wilford and Damien have moved from Damien’s room to see Celine as well, to look at her with much more sedate expressions than they held a few minutes prior. Dr. Iplier would normally come in and tell them off for going into a patient’s room without his permission, but there’s no point to it, not with the state Celine’s in. He lingers in the doorway, and neither Damien or Wilford notice him.

“Has she really been sleeping this whole time?” Wilford asks. He’s facing away from Dr. Iplier so his expression is hard to see, but he certainly doesn’t sound happy.

“She needs it,” Damien explains, “That snowscape we were trapped in…it was practically eternal.” Dr. Iplier notices that one of his hands is holding Celine’s. “She kept us both going through that, kept protecting me. So it’s…just been me since.” He frowns a little. “But that’s not true, either. I was barely present. Dark was…Dark wasn’t me. I wasn’t Dark. I couldn’t say who Dark was, despite what pieces of him I remember.” He shakes his head. “It’s all so bizarre. We were never meant to end up like this.”

_Neither were you,_ he must be thinking, staring at Wilford, but Dr. Iplier can’t know that for sure.

Wilford doesn’t speak right away. He looks down at Celine with emotion, strong but hard to define, playing over his face.

“I still love her, you know.” His voice is strangely subdued. “I never stopped.” He reaches out a hand to touch her, stroke her cheek or her hair, but stops midair and retracts it. “You remember, I’m sure, how I slept with so many other people, but…but I never forgot Celine. At least…” His brow furrows. “I remembered her more than I remembered most things. That means something, doesn’t it?”

“Of course, Wil,” Damien answers, smiling sadly.

It’s an expression Dr. Iplier can read, one he knows. The expression of a man who knows that too much has changed, who knows that nothing will ever be like it once was. That feeling of loss, of sadness, but bittersweet acceptance. Dr. Iplier felt it when he looked into The Author’s eyes and saw The Host, and now Damien feels it looking into William’s eyes and seeing Wilford staring back. The knowledge that nothing can change what has already happened, and all one can do is smile and continue and rebuild from the ashes.

Or not, in Damien’s case. If there’s a way to get Dark back, then Damien will be back where he was before, returned to the ashes again. If not, what will become of the egos?

What of Anti?

He’s done nothing that the egos know of, so far. He’s been quiet, dormant. Perhaps getting used to his newfound power. Testing. Discovering. Gaining strength. Strength and power that Dr. Iplier helped him attain.

Dr. Iplier continues to keep his secret close to his chest, continues to wait for something to happen.

At this point, he’s all too used to doing both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me @ Doc: Why the fuck you lyin, why you always lyin, mmm oh my god, stop fuckin lyin-


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Yandere finally wakes up and learns what happened while he was away.  
> Warnings: Descriptions of past torture and abuse, intense distress, needles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally tag for things like distress, but...this is rough, y'all ;w;
> 
> Hope you like it tho :'D

Two days after Damien wakes, Yandere follows.

Not much happens between Damien’s awakening and Yandere’s; the egos all meet Damien one by one, they hold a meeting about what can be done, what Anti might be planning. But the conversation is predictably fruitless, and the hope persists among the egos that Yandere might provide another piece to the puzzle, that his time with Anti gave him knowledge on the glitch’s plans.

But when Yandere finally stirs, when his eyes finally open, Dr. Iplier isn’t thinking about that. He can’t rightly think at all through the relief that breaks open his chest, the rush of love that flows out and consumes him. That love turns electric as Yandere’s head turns to look at him with clear brown eyes, eyes free of static, eyes wide with awe over the sense that his mind is his own again.

“…Dad?” he asks, voice small, wavering, hoarse from disuse.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, only half-aware of the tears starting to drip down his cheeks. He reaches out from where he sits at Yandere’s bedside and cups Yandere’s cheeks, just as he did all that time ago when Yandere was still being puppeted. “You’re home, you’re safe now. Anti’s not here to hurt you anymore.”

There’s a long moment as the gears in Yandere’s mind turn and his eyes fill with tears. Hope simmers there, hope and fear, fear that he’s only dreaming, that he’s imagining Dr. Iplier in front of him. It spears Dr. Iplier’s heart, reminds him of that night so long ago when Yandere was new, when he’d been lost and homeless for a month, when he’d so desperately wanted Dr. Iplier’s kindness but didn’t know if he could trust it. He’s on the tail end of another month of strife, facing Dr. Iplier with that familiar doubt. Dr. Iplier strokes Yandere’s cheeks with his thumbs and offers him a gentle, watery smile.

The tears in Yandere’s eyes finally spill over as he starts to sob and reach for Dr. Iplier. Dr. Iplier in turn wraps his arms around Yandere, hugs him close, and Yandere hugs back, clinging to his father’s shoulders, weeping, loud and aching but full of cathartic relief. Dr. Iplier sobs, too, all his grief and worry and fear cracking him open and laying him bare. It’s all he can do to clutch Yandere to his chest, to stroke his hair, to keep an arm braced around his back, feeling his boy tremble with emotion in his arms.

His boy, his child, his baby, here and whole at last.

Dr. Iplier doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Time doesn’t matter to him now, not with Yandere holding desperately onto him. Eventually, though, they each spend their tears; Dr. Iplier first and then Yandere some minutes later. Dr. Iplier had expected as much: His baby has more to cry over than Dr. Iplier did even on the worst days. But after some time, they’re left still holding each other, looser but still close, still anxious to hold on. Dr. Iplier rocks gently back and forth, swaying Yandere with him, and they both relax as much they’re able, given what they’re both thinking.

“I’m sorry I never saw him getting to you,” Dr. Iplier whispers, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize anything was wrong.”

“I should’ve said something the first time I heard static in my headphones,” Yandere replies, voice still weak and rough. “But I just ignored it, and then suddenly I just…forgot it was something to worry about.” He pauses. “It happened over a long while. I don’t remember how long, but Guritchi…” _Glitch._ Yandere shudders. His grip gets tighter on Dr. Iplier’s lab coat as he continues. “Guritchi was patient. Then he came out of my TV like, like the fucking Grudge, and he told me to go with him, and I _did.”_

Dr. Iplier kisses the top of Yandere’s head, lets his lips linger there. He can feel Yandere vibrating with shame and rage, and tries to rock it away, gentle and slow.

“We didn’t see him take you,” Dr. Iplier murmurs into Yandere’s hair. “There was a storm going on, and a blackout…all the cameras showed was that you were there one moment and gone the next.” He closes his eyes, remembering that night, remembering Google coming into his clinic to tell him that his son was missing. “The others searched for you everywhere. They confronted Anti first, but they couldn’t find you at his hideout, or anywhere around it.”

“I was somewhere different,” Yandere says, calmer but not by much, “Somewhere new I’d never seen before. I don’t know where it was. Even looking back, there was nothing…nothing identifying in that place. It was just this shitty wood cabin with only a few rooms.” He stiffens in Dr. Iplier’s arms. “He mostly kept me in one of them.”

Dr. Iplier is quiet for a long moment. He doesn’t want to make Yandere relive his trauma, doesn’t want to ask what Anti did to him. But it could help Yandere to talk about it, for Yandere’s always been a talkative soul, always gained comfort from discussing his problems. After some silent moments, Yandere pulls out of Dr. Iplier’s loose and gentle hold to settle back in bed, sitting and wrapping his arms around himself instead of Dr. Iplier. Dr. Iplier, for his part, already feels a little cold without his boy against his chest, but he lets Yandere pull away, keeps his hands to himself for now. Yandere’s expression is one of numbness, one Dr. Iplier sees in accident victims as they process what just happened to them.

“I remember most of it,” Yandere mumbles. “Sometimes he’d do something to my brain that just…made static float in my head. I couldn’t focus on anything or pay any attention. Apparently I still listened to Guritchi when he did it, though. He’d do that to my head for a while, make me lose time, and ask me what just happened or what I just did. And he’d laugh when I couldn’t tell him. But most of the time, he’d just…He’d just hurt me.” Yandere tightens his grip on his own arms, nails digging in. His expression turns haunted. “He’d hurt me, and he’d make me thank him for it.”

“What?” Dr. Iplier, horrified, can’t stop himself from asking. Yandere answers, looking at him with round, terrified eyes.

“All the conditioning he did made me like him. I didn’t see him as a threat anymore, he was someone I wanted to impress, someone I…I wanted to _serve._ He became like a senpai to me, but…but not, because I didn’t _love_ him, exactly. He was… _shujin._ Master. I only existed to do as he commanded. I wanted his praise. I didn’t care what I had to do to earn it.” Tears, no longer relieved but hot and angry, run down Yandere’s cheeks. “I didn’t think about anyone else. I forgot you, and my friends, my brothers, Yami, I forgot _Yami…_ ” He shuts his eyes. “I only knew Guritchi. He’d torture me and insult me and laugh at me and I’d love it because he was touching me and interacting with me. Sometimes he made me beg for him to hurt me. Sometimes he made me thank him. I never refused.” He pauses, opens his eyes. “Well, I refused him once. When I’d only been with him for a couple days, I think. He told me to drink something, I forget what was in it, but it was some sort of…pesticide, or something. I knew that, so I asked if I really had to.” He shudders, remembering. “So Guritchi grabbed me, slammed my head into a wall, and poured it into my mouth while I was too dazed to stop him. I was puking and convulsing for hours. After it wore off and I was just laying there, he left me in that room alone for…for a whole day, maybe. I don’t know how long. There weren’t any windows. But it was a long time. And I fucking _missed_ him. And when he finally came back in, I just…I _groveled._ I begged for his forgiveness. He laughed at me, but he gave it, and the past however-long I’d been alone and suffering felt worth it.” Yandere glares into the distance, eyes red with rage. “It felt worth it if it made me worth something to him.”

“Oh, baby,” Dr. Iplier gasps. He lets himself reach out to Yandere, wipe away the nearest tears, sweep his hand around to Yandere’s hair, tangling his fingers there. His other hand goes to Yandere’s, smoothing his white knuckles, helping him ease the vice grip he has on his arm. After a few moments of attention, Yandere finally relaxes, leaning into Dr. Iplier’s chest, letting his father hold him again. Yandere doesn’t reach for him this time, merely stays still against him, eventually letting out a sigh.

“The last thing I remember,” Yandere murmurs, “Was Guritchi telling me we were going somewhere, and putting the static in my head. Then suddenly I was waking up here.” He cranes his head up to look at Dr. Iplier. His eyes are starting to fade back to brown, his angry tears have subsided. “How long has it been?”

“Well, a week, since Anti brought you back,” Dr. Iplier replies, “But you were gone for a month.”

Yandere closes his eyes, lets out a shuddery breath.

“But Guritchi just…brought me back?” he asks.

“As far as we can tell, yes,” Dr. Iplier says. “I was there, but I…I don’t remember much. But he…” Dr. Iplier takes a deep breath. “He did something else, too.”

The lie that Dr. Iplier doesn’t remember comes out so automatically, even in talking to his boy. But it’s not too late to tell the truth. Yandere can be the first person Dr. Iplier tells about everything, about Anti’s plan and how he helped it happen.

But Yandere’s eyes go wide and curious, but nervous, like he knows bad news is coming. Dr. Iplier’s boy, his baby, scarred up and down all over but still so sweet, so trusting in his father. Dr. Iplier is already about to break his heart, he can’t make himself break Yandere’s trust.

“What happened?” Yandere asks, voice small again, and a pit settles in Dr. Iplier’s stomach.

He won’t be telling the truth. Not now. Not today.

“Dark was in the clinic,” Dr. Iplier begins, “He’d gotten hurt in a fight with Infelix. He and Wilford confronted him to look for you,” he explains as Yandere’s brows furrow in confusion. “They didn’t find you, but Dark got injured, and he had to stay in the clinic for a while. But while he was here, Anti came.” He mentally braces himself for the lie he’s repeated a dozen times. “I don’t know what happened, I can’t remember, but he…did something. Something to Dark.”

“What??” Yandere asks, eyes going huge. He pulls away from Dr. Iplier again, sitting straight up with sudden nerves. “What happened to Yami!?”

Dr. Iplier takes a deep breath. He takes both of Yandere’s hands in his.

“Anti split him apart somehow,” Dr. Iplier murmurs. “He pulled Dark’s aura away from him and took it. He left Damien, Celine, and the DA’s body behind. The DA’s body crumbled away, but Damien and Celine are here. Celine’s in a coma, and Damien woke up a couple days ago. But Dark…Dark’s gone. He’s been torn apart. It’s more than that he died, he just…doesn’t exist anymore.” Dr. Iplier squeezes Yandere’s hands. “I’m so sorry, honeybee.”

Yandere stares at Dr. Iplier for many long seconds. His face is unreadable. Then his face splits into an awkward grin and he laughs, loud and strained.

“Haha, that’s so weird, Dad!” Yandere cackles, eyes too bright. “You’re not very good at joking. That’s just way too out there for _anyone_ to believe! There’s no way something like that could happen. No way. Not to Yami.” There’s something hard in his gaze. “Not to Yami.”

“It’s true, baby,” Dr. Iplier tells him, squeezing his hands again. “I’m so, so sorry, but it’s all true. Dark’s gone.” He feels tears gathering in his eyes again. “Dark’s gone, Yandere.”

Yandere’s laughter dies, and the grin drops into a tight, sharp frown. His brows furrow, tears collect in his eyes. His irises are suddenly so red they burn to look at.

“No,” he gasps, “He can’t be gone, he can’t…I just got home, he was looking for me, he has to come see me, he–” His breath hitches. “He can’t be dead. He’s my senpai. He’s everything. He can’t just _die,_ he can’t just be gone, I never–” He yanks his hands away from Dr. Iplier’s to grab his own head, tangle his fingers into his hair, eyes wild. “I haven’t spoken to him in weeks, I didn’t say goodbye, he can’t be _gone,_ he’s _senpai,_ he’s so powerful, he’s so much stronger than Anti, he – he – he–” Yandere starts hyperventilating.

“Sweetheart, shh,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, reaching for him again, trying to help him breathe.

But Yandere shies away, and then, all at once, throws back the covers of his hospital bed and dashes away.

“Yandere!!” Dr. Iplier shouts. He leaps up and runs after him.

Yandere runs all over the clinic, looking in every room as Dr. Iplier fruitlessly calls to him. Before long, Yandere finds Celine’s room, and he sobs to see her, because now he knows.

Celine and Dark could never exist separately. Dark has to be gone.

“No, no, no,” Yandere gasps, “Not Yami, not Yami–!”

Dr. Iplier watches his child’s heart snap in two, hears him wail, loud and haunting.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Dr. Iplier murmurs through tears, putting his hands on Yandere’s shoulders, trying to steer him out of Celine’s room and back to his own. “You shouldn’t be out of bed yet, you’re still recovering–”

Yandere shouts, wordless and agonized, and tears out of Dr. Iplier’s grip to bolt out of the clinic.

“Yandere, where–!” Dr. Iplier yells, not bothering to finish his question as he runs after him.

He can only barely keep Yandere in his sights; Yandere is much faster than Dr. Iplier, lighter and more agile, and he leaves the clinic in a blur. Dr. Iplier keeps after him, watches him rush down the hall, finding Wilford’s studio. Dr. Iplier wonders why for a moment, then realizes: Wilford, right now, must be with Damien. Wilford is so often in the studio, so there must Damien be, too.

Dr. Iplier mutters a curse and tries to run faster.

He bursts in just in time to see Yandere catch sight of Damien, who’s standing by Wilford and the Jims, talking amicably. They look up to see Yandere, and Wilford’s face breaks into a grin to see his little brother awake and well. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can–

_“You!!”_ Yandere yells, glaring daggers at Damien. Damien shrinks back as though wounded. The Jims scatter, fleeing deeper into the studio, afraid of Yandere’s anger.

“Y–” Damien starts, but cuts himself off.

Because Yandere charges.

He rushes at Damien, sword out. Damien cowers, back against the wall. Wilford blips out of view, then reappears in Yandere’s path. He grabs Yandere before he can change direction. Yandere’s momentum sends him hanging over Wilford’s shoulder. He kicks and struggles but can’t break free. He screams in frustration and throws his katana at Damien. Damien jumps away just in time. The sword sinks into the wall where he used to be standing.

Yandere howls again, continues to fight Wilford’s hold, but Wilford is much stronger than him. Dr. Iplier’s heart hammers from the scare as he runs to Yandere and Wilford. Damien stays where he is, fear and concern mingling in his expression. Wilford is no longer so happy to see Yandere, now that he’s struggling to contain him, struggling to see his grief.

“Yanny, what in the–” he begins, but Yandere cuts him off.

“What the hell are you _doing_ here!?” He screams at Damien, vibrant red eyes boring into Damien’s frightened brown ones. “Why are you here?? Where’s Yami? Where is he? Give him back! Give him back to me!!” He throws his head back in another wail. _“Give me back my senpai!!”_

He continues raving, mindless in his grief, and Wilford’s expression turns downcast, sad. Dr. Iplier imagines his own expression must be mirroring Wilford’s. There’s no talking to Yandere when he’s this upset, this much of a risk to others.

Dr. Iplier pulls something out of his lab coat pocket: A syringe, with a little bottle of sedative. In a place with people as volatile and violent as the egos, it never hurts to be prepared, and Dr. Iplier always has sedatives on him in case he needs them. He looks at Yandere, still wailing, and looks back to Wilford again. Wilford purses his lips but nods.

For all of Yandere’s struggling, Wilford’s grip is strong, and his position over Wilford’s shoulders means he can’t see Dr. Iplier coming. It’s not physically difficult to approach Yandere, to poke the needle into his neck. Yandere feels it and yelps, more out of surprise than anything else, and arches away. But Dr. Iplier’s hand is steady, and he follows Yandere’s movement.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Iplier whispers for what feels like the hundredth time. But what else can he say?

He can’t help but think about the last injection he gave to an ego.

But this isn’t the same, this is for Yandere’s own good. Soon after Dr. Iplier removes the needle from Yandere’s neck, Yandere starts to tire. His writhing and raging subside into soft trembling and quiet muttering. Damien feels brave enough to approach as Yandere starts to fall into sleep. Damien’s no longer afraid, but astonished, maybe a little guilty. About a minute after the injection, Yandere finally succumbs to the sedative, going limp, draped over Wilford’s shoulder.

Wilford maneuvers Yandere off from over his shoulder and into his arms to hold him properly, face twisted up with emotion.

“You told him,” he says to Dr. Iplier.

“I had to,” Dr. Iplier replies.

Damien says nothing.

“Hey, why don’t you go find the Jims, Dames?” Wilford says to him, trying to smile. “The little scamps can’t have gone far.”

“I…” Damien has a hundred questions written on his face, but he settles for “Okay.”

Dr. Iplier and Wilford take Yandere back to the clinic, back to his bed there. Wilford goes to let the others know that Yandere is awake, and how he reacted to what happened in his absence. Dr. Iplier checks him over, making sure he hasn’t aggravated any of his old wounds. Physically, though, Yandere is still perfectly whole.

Dr. Iplier can only hope that Yandere will be more mentally stable when he wakes up.

~~~

_Denial._

Yandere got through that phase of his grief as quickly as it came on. Seeing Celine and Damien proved without a shred of doubt that Dark was gone. Dr. Iplier, at least, knows that Yandere fully understands the situation…even if he doesn’t like it.

While he sleeps off the sedation, Chrome and Yancy come into the room to see Yandere, to be there for him when he wakes. Dr. Iplier sees Chrome’s eyes flicker to Yandere’s wrists and ankles, and he knows what Chrome is looking for: Straps. Were Yandere any other patient, Dr. Iplier would’ve put restraints on him by now. But Yandere is still his baby, still getting through something traumatic, and Dr. Iplier doesn’t want to hurt him further. Surely Yandere will be calmer when he wakes?

_Anger._

He is not.

Yandere wakes screaming.

Before Dr. Iplier can reach out to comfort him, Yandere leaps out of bed and tries to run again, to hunt down Damien again. Chrome manages to catch him and wrestle him back into bed as Yandere spits and howls and sobs. He writhes too much for restraints to be put on and he won’t hear anyone’s words of comfort. Dr. Iplier is forced to sedate him yet again, and Yandere goes down fighting, his flailing and kicking dying down slowly, until his head sluggishly rolls back into the pillow and his strength gives in to sleep. Chrome bears it all with a hard grimace, like he couldn’t smile even if one commanded him to. Yancy watches in abject terror. He’s never seen Yandere so unhinged, so mad with despair. It reminds him too much of his own deep-set problems with anger, and he has to leave not long after for his own sake. Chrome stays, though, helping Dr. Iplier put the restraints on Yandere’s wrists and ankles, strapping them to the bed. Dr. Iplier still feels terrible for it, but it’s obvious they’re necessary.

When Yandere wakes again, he’s just as angry and loud as he was before. His back arches off the bed as he howls, desperately trying to kick, to free himself of the thick straps. Even at his full strength they’d be near-impossible to break, but after a month of being tortured and half-starved by Anti, Yandere doesn’t have a hope of breaking free. Chrome and Dr. Iplier both try to talk to him, try to pet his hair and wipe his tears, but Yandere hardly seems aware of them.

_Bargaining._

Grief is not linear. Dr. Iplier has seen enough grieving relatives to know this. Even the so-called five stages mix and meld, sometimes happen out of order.

Yandere’s rage is not wordless: He’s hard to understand through the wracking sobs and the wails, and half his words are in Japanese, but he does still speak. Nor is his rage aimless: He does not solely curse the universe for taking his true love from him and beg for it to return him. He screams about Anti, too, howls out threats to ruin him for killing Dark, for stealing what was never meant to be his. But Yandere also rails against Damien, as he did before, rails against Celine, too. Spits horrific threats and insults, blames their existence for Dark’s nonexistence, demands they make this right, demands Dark’s life for theirs.

It’s not a rational anger, of course, but Yandere is beyond rationality now. It’s a disturbing side of him to see, especially for Dr. Iplier, someone who knows Yandere as his sweet, loving son. Chrome is perturbed too, but much less so. He’s spent many nights rolling heads with Yandere, he knows how far removed his brother is from normal humanity. But Dr. Iplier sees the injuries Yandere brings back from those fights. He sees the tears he sheds after nightmares. He sees the nervous way he twists his hands when he’s admitting to feeling useless. Dr. Iplier has always known, objectively, that Yandere has something wrong in his mind, something chaotic, erratic, dangerous. But it’s always hard to match it to the sweet boy he knows, and that’s never been harder to do than it is now.

Because his baby is distressed, traumatized from a month of torture and mind control, weeping from the loss of his greatest and only love. But he’s also writhing like a feral animal against his restraints, saying the vilest things against Damien and Celine, two people who didn’t ask for this either.

Eventually, Chrome is summoned away by the other Googles. Dr. Iplier has a feeling they don’t truly need him for anything; they just want to get him some space away from Yandere’s suffering. Even if the others haven’t been told about his waking, they must know about it by now with his screams ringing throughout the building. Dr. Iplier is left sitting by his child, unable to comfort or calm him, burying his face in his hands and crying too, sharing his grief.

Dr. Iplier doesn’t lift his head again until he hears Yandere’s wail uptick into a brief, pained yelp. He looks at Yandere to find that he’s managed to dislocate his own shoulder in his mindless struggling. Dr. Iplier tries in vain to get Yandere to lie still and allow him to pop his shoulder back into place, but Yandere merely continues to sob and howl and struggle away from the doctor’s gentle hands. Dr. Iplier has no choice but to put him under for the third time.

Not completely, though. It’s risky using so much sedation in such a short period of time. The third injection is mild enough to let Yandere stay half-awake, but strong enough to turn his muscles into jelly. He mumbles incomprehensibly, disoriented, and Dr. Iplier frees his wrist to push his arm back into its socket. He doesn’t want to restrain it again, lest Yandere damage his shoulder further, so he lets that wrist stay free and hopes Yandere won’t be able to escape.

It takes a few minutes for the partial sedation to wear off, and in the meantime, Dr. Iplier is finally able to offer comfort that Yandere can’t ignore. He strokes Yandere’s hair and whispers to him, promises to be there for him, to give him whatever he needs.

_Depression._

When Yandere comes out of his sedation, he has no more screams left. His voice is hoarse and cracked, wheezy and rough. He cannot fling curses and threats any longer. He has no voice, so strength.

Instead, he cries.

Wordless, aching sobs, deep haunting wails from the depths of his skinny chest, weeping that seems endless. Dr. Iplier is intimately familiar with how much blood and bile can fit in a person. He’d thought he’d seen enough crying relatives to know the depth of tears, too, but Yandere’s weeping seem eternal. Wet spots appear on his pillow, on either side of his face, as tears pour out. He doesn’t struggle against the restraints anymore. Just lies there and cries.

Dr. Iplier can’t tell if this is better or worse than the Yandere who hollered and raged.

Eventually, when he’s sure Yandere won’t try to run again, he undoes all the restraints and gathers his boy into his arms to comfort him. Yandere doesn’t protest, just curls his fingers into Dr. Iplier’s shirt and burrows his head into his chest, like if he buries himself deep enough into Dr. Iplier’s embrace he won’t be able to feel the pain anymore. Dr. Iplier sits in Yandere’s bed, rocks Yandere back and forth, whispers and shushes, cuddles and kisses.

Dr. Iplier is crying, too, but he manages to keep most of the shakiness out of his voice. His boy’s distress rips open his heart like nothing has before. But it’s more than that: It’s the lie still sitting in his chest, still sheltered, kept behind his ribs, sharp against his cracked-open heart. It bleeds guilt into his chest cavity.

_“I did this to him,”_ he thinks as he holds Yandere’s trembling, whimpering form, _“I took the man he loves from him.”_

But surely this is better than the alternative? Surely this is better than Yandere lying dead, rotting in the windowless room of Anti’s cabin?

_Acceptance._

Dr. Iplier doesn’t know if Yandere will ever accept Dark’s death. He certainly hasn’t yet. This is proven after Yandere’s been crying for hours, into the night, and he finally, finally runs dry. He stays clutching onto Dr. Iplier, though, soaking up his comfort.

“Do you think,” he whispers, voice nearly gone from all his screaming and sobbing, “There’s a way to bring Yami back?” He looks up at Dr. Iplier with big, desperate, red-rimmed eyes. “Maybe if we get his aura back, can we make him again?”

“I…I don’t know,” Dr. Iplier answers truthfully, “Nothing like this has happened before. The DA’s body is gone, but maybe…” He thinks. “Maybe if we can find a new way to give Dark a body, all the other parts of him can come together again.”

Yandere relaxes a little to hear it, then yawns, snuggling into Dr. Iplier’s chest. Dr. Iplier laughs quietly, the first time he’s laughed in a long time. Love blooms in his chest as he gives Yandere a squeeze.

“Normally I’d have you sleep here alone, since you’re still healing,” Dr. Iplier says, “But…I think I’ll stay with you, if you want.”

“Yeah,” Yandere replies, smiling a little. His first smile since he woke up from his coma. “I’d like that a lot.”

Dr. Iplier leaves only briefly to put on sleepwear before turning off the clinic’s lights and climbing into the hospital bed alongside Yandere. The bed is warm from Yandere’s body heat, and not quite big enough for two, but they manage to fit together without much difficulty. Dr. Iplier holds him again, and Yandere holds on in return, tucking his head under Dr. Iplier’s chin.

“Love you,” Yandere mumbles, clearly already half-asleep.

“I love you too, so much,” Dr. Iplier replies, with a heart fit to burst. “I’m so happy you’re here again.” He kisses Yandere’s hair.

A pause, as Yandere thinks.

“What am I gonna do without Yami?” he finally asks, voice resigned and tired.

“You’ll be okay,” Dr. Iplier reassures him, “Me and the others are here for you. We’ll do whatever we can to get Dark back and…and you’ll be okay, no matter what happens.”

A kinder way of saying that life is still worth living, even if Dark can no longer be in it.

Yandere responds with a noncommittal hum before finally falling asleep.

Dr. Iplier follows suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;;;w;;;


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Now that Yandere’s awake, the other egos try to get to the bottom of what Anti might be planning, with mixed results.  
> Warnings: Descriptions of past abuse, discussions of death, some sexual content at the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hopefully serves as a bit of a breather. There's a bit of humor and everyone's a little more chill, so yay! :D Shit's still wack tho :'D
> 
> Enjoy!

When Dr. Iplier wakes the next morning, Yandere is still there beside him, eyes closed but already awake. It’s obvious from the lines in his face that he’s still not okay; he likely won’t be okay until Dark is back.

_“If that’s even possible,”_ chides a voice at the back of Dr. Iplier’s mind.

“Morning, honeybee,” Dr. Iplier mumbles, kissing the nearest tuft of Yandere’s hair.

“Mmf,” Yandere mutters, face still in Dr. Iplier’s shoulder. He may be awake, but only barely. Dr. Iplier chuckles a little.

“Alright, I’m getting up,” he says, before pulling himself out of bed. Yandere whines as Dr. Iplier lets him go, but doesn’t actually protest, only burrowing deeper under the covers to make up for the lost warmth.

He’s still like that when Dr. Iplier returns from getting dressed and freshened up, and though Dr. Iplier would normally get him up to examine him, he decides it can wait until Yandere is actually fully awake. He no longer fears that Yandere will run, and besides, Yandere isn’t his only patient.

Celine is still comatose, of course. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need care; it’s not like the medical dramas Dr. Iplier’s character is meant to call back to, where comatose patients can lay there all day, only occasionally having their monitors and IVs checked by a nurse. Celine’s case is strange, though, because there doesn’t seem to be anything _wrong_ with her. She can breathe on her own, she exhibits some reflexes, and none of the scanning and imaging Dr. Iplier’s done on her brain can find any sort of damage. It’s as though she’s sleeping deeply, or under the influence of some sedative or sleeping aid, but both are demonstrably untrue. Then again, though, Celine’s medical history is complicated, to say the least. Dr. Iplier can’t expect her body to be the same as a normal human’s. He already knows she likely won’t wake up, but he can’t help but wonder how she’d be feeling if she did.

After looking after Celine, he goes back to Yandere and finally examines him. Fortunately, Yandere seems to be doing well: His wounds are still healing well, and his shoulder, while sore, seems no worse for wear after its dislocation yesterday.

“Sorry I didn’t let you fix it before,” Yandere tells Dr. Iplier as he checks it, “Guritchi liked tying me up by my arms so my feet couldn’t touch the ground, and it kept popping my arms out. It just…kind of reminded me of that.”

Yandere may be home, but he’s not the same boy Dr. Iplier lost. All Dr. Iplier can do is hug him gently before continuing the exam.

Eventually, a visitor arrives at the clinic: Wilford. He looks as though he’s spent all day and night worrying, no doubt about Yandere. Even after Dr. Iplier invites him into the room, he still seems uncertain, as though afraid Yandere will be angry with him or try to find Damien again. But Yandere instead lights up to see Wilford again, now that his mind is clear enough to appreciate it.

“Onii-san!” he cries, practically jumping into his arms to hug him.

“Heya, otouto,” Wilford laughs, hugging him back and swinging him around. “You sure freaked us out yesterday, but it’s good to see you up! You feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” Yandere says, but Dr. Iplier can see that his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just…I’m sorry about before.”

“It’s alright,” Wilford assures him. He pulls away enough to look at him. “You should’ve seen _me_ after Dark disappeared, I caused at least twice the commotion you did!”

He says it with humor, and Yandere can’t help but giggle, but Dr. Iplier knows it’s not really a joke. Wilford holds Yandere against him again and they stay that way for a long moment, two brothers both undone by Dark’s death.

“I just wanted to check on you, ya know,” Wilford murmurs, “Properly talk to you after everything, make sure you’re doing alright.”

“It was a lot,” Yandere admits, “I mean…waking up from one nightmare and going into another.”

Wilford sighs, and Dr. Iplier shudders.

“How badly am I gonna have to kill that glitch next time I see him?” Wilford asks Yandere. The note of humor in his voice is gone, his grip on Yandere is tighter, his eyes are pink.

“Real badly,” Yandere says, laying his head on Wilford’s shoulder, “Maybe if you put him in your void he’ll fall apart after a while. Like…a clump of sand in a glass of water.”

“He might do the same if I shoot him a whole bunch,” Wilford offers, “Or just skip the guns and break his bones with my bare hands.” Something unhinged enters his eyes. “Maybe I could rip his head off if I pulled hard enough. I’d just get a good grip on the edge of his slit throat, and then– _krrsch!_ No more glitch.”

“I like that one,” Yandere says softly, eyes bright red. “Do that.”

Dr. Iplier shudders again. Here is the clearest reason why Yandere and Wilford are brothers: They both have that chaos inside, something burning and violent and unnatural.

“…I knew he’d taken you,” Wilford sighs, trading tension for weariness. “I knew it had to be him, but…we couldn’t find you in his hideout. Dark used his aura, searched for a whole mile around, almost split apart right then instead of later…”

“He really went that far?” Yandere asks, red leaving his eyes at the mention of Dark. “He did that to find me?”

“Of course,” Wilford says simply, “He loved you, kiddo.”

They all notice the past tense, but none of them say a thing about it. Instead, Yandere lifts his head from Wilford’s shoulder to look at him.

“What do we do now?” Yandere asks, lip quivering. Wilford coos and kisses Yandere’s cheeks before speaking.

“That’s actually part of why I’m here,” he says, “I’m gonna hold a meeting soon. The others are gonna want to see you now that you’re awake, and they’re probably gonna want to know how much you saw of Anti’s planning.”

“It’s not much,” Yandere admits, “But I’ll tell what I remember. I want to help.”

“Great!” Wilford exclaims. “You just have to promise not to try stabbing Damien again. Normally I’m all for stabbing, but Damien’s a good bit squishier than Dark.”

“I won’t,” Yandere mumbles, cheeks turning pink.

“Hold on a minute,” Dr. Iplier interjects, “Yandere just woke up from a week-long coma, and he’s been through a lot of stress, even excluding the past month – from which he’s still not fully healed, by the way. He needs to rest.”

“But Dad!” Yandere cries from Wilford’s arms, “I’ve already missed so much, I want to know what’s going on, and I want to help!” His eyes are wide and nervous. “Guritchi brought me back the same day he killed Yami, right? Then it’s already been a week since he got Yami’s aura, we’ve lost too much time!”

“Yandere–” Dr. Iplier starts.

“We need more information,” Wilford cuts in, suddenly stern. “You’ve been stuck in the clinic for so long, Doc. You don’t know how anxious the others are. Our past few meetings have just gone around in circles. No one knows anything. The others need to hear from Yan. We need a plan before Anti decides to attack, and there’s no way he won’t.”

Dr. Iplier closes his mouth, steps back. He’s still not used to this, he’s still not used to Wilford acting like a leader. And as worried as Dr. Iplier is about Yandere, Wilford makes good points. Dr. Iplier exhales.

“I don’t want Yan reliving his trauma,” he sighs, “And I don’t want him straining himself, especially after yesterday.”

“I’ll be okay, Dad,” Yandere says quietly, “But I really want to do this.”

Dr. Iplier sighs again, but finally nods.

“Right, then!” Wilford says brightly, like nothing happened. “Let’s go!”

“Oh, now?” Yandere asked, a little surprised.

“Of course! I said the meeting was soon, didn’t I?”

That’s the only warning Dr. Iplier gets before the trio are poofed to the meeting room through Wilford’s sickly sweet, topsy-turvy void. Some part of that strange space, some part of that chaos and ozone, reminds him of being transported through cyberspace by Anti. He stumbles as they land in the meeting room, and a familiar arm takes his own to steady him.

“You alright?” asks Host. Dr. Iplier wonders if Host predicted exactly where to stand to keep him from falling. Knowing him, the answer is yes.

“I hate Wilford’s void,” Dr. Iplier grumbles. Host chuckles lightly, not sensing Dr. Iplier’s deeper discomfort.

Most of the egos are in the room already, and the sounds of their conversations run over each other. Dr. Iplier looks to Yandere to offer him his chair so he doesn’t have to stand, but Wilford beats him to it, poofing a new chair into existence for Yandere to sit in. It puts him next to Dr. Iplier and close to the head of the table where Dark used to sit, where Wilford now stands, waiting to start things. But before sitting, Yandere finds Chrome and Yancy among the crowd, and goes to greet them. Dr. Iplier can’t hear them through the loudness of the room, but it’s obvious enough that they’re happy to see each other. Yandere hugs them both with a huge grin, Yancy grins just as wide in relief, and even stoic, stone-faced Chrome lets one corner of his mouth quirk up as he ruffles Yandere’s hair. It warms Dr. Iplier to see Yandere and his band of musketeers so happy, especially after the awful day Yandere had yesterday. There’s still something sad in Yandere’s eyes, his smiles still aren’t as bright, but he’s miles beyond where he used to be only a day ago. Dr. Iplier just hopes that recounting Anti’s torture doesn’t send him right back where he started.

Suddenly, a gunshot goes off. Everyone jumps and looks to the source: Wilford, who’s just added another bullet hole to the ceiling.

“Do you have to do that every time?” Google growls, rubbing his ear.

“It got your attention, didn’t it?” Wilford responds cheekily. “Everyone find a place to sit or stand, it’s time to get down to business.”

A low grumble starts up among the egos, but they do as they’re told anyway. Yandere is the only one who still seems relatively chipper instead of annoyed or spooked. He sits in the chair Wilford poofed for him, and gives Dr. Iplier a smile. Dr. Iplier can’t help but smile back.

“Hey,” he whispers to Yandere, “If you start hurting anywhere, or feel like you need to leave, I’ll go with you if you need me to.”

“I know,” Yandere says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He leans into Dr. Iplier for a moment and then pulls away, like a shoulder-check but softer, friendlier.

_“He has so much trust in me. Would he still trust me if he knew I’ve been lying to him?”_

Dr. Iplier hides his guilty thoughts and pecks the top of Yandere’s head before looking to Wilford, who starts by clearing his throat.

“Well, as most of you already know,” Wilford begins, “Yandere finally woke up yesterday! And as some of you know, he’s here today to see if he can’t help us get to the bottom of everything.”

Already, this meeting is so different than any Dark led. Wilford goes right to the point, no formalities. Yandere straightens in his seat as the other egos train their eyes on him – Damien included, who sits on the opposite end of the table from Wilford, regarding Yandere warily.

_“Konnichiwa,”_ Yandere says, offering a piece sign. He steals a glance at Damien out of the corner of his eye.

Dr. Iplier can tell he’s hiding some anxiety behind the gesture. He wants to grab Yandere’s other hand to hold, but decides to let him be for now and see how he does on his own.

“He’s not gonna try murdering Damien again, is he?” drawls Ed. King smacks him in the arm, and Silver reaches over Eric to do the same on his other side. “Ow, hey!”

“You don’t just _say_ stuff like that in meetings!” King hisses.

“That was rude!” Silver yells at the same time.

“How do you know about that??” Wilford asks. His eyes wander the room until they settle on the Jims. He stares at them, unimpressed. “I swore you two to secrecy. What gives?”

“It’s not my fault!!” RJ yells, putting his hands up in surrender. “CJ’s butterfingers can’t keep a secret to save his life!”

_“It wasn’t just me!”_ CJ signs vigorously, indignant at being ratted out. _“You told everyone who can’t read sign that well, which is way more people than I told!!”_

“Why are you both so stupid…?” Bim groans, hopelessly putting his head in his arms as the twins start slap-fighting.

“Alright, alright, enough!” Wilford sighs, “I guess it can’t be helped. Quit fighting.”

Another difference between Dark’s meetings and this one: Dark would’ve been much more severe about correcting the twins’ behavior. The twins, for their part, do stop fighting, but continue to pout. Knowing them, they’ll be friends again in two minutes.

“I’m not gonna attack Damien-san,” Yandere grumbles, cheeks pink. Fortunately, though, most of the group seems distracted by the Jims’ antics.

“Anyway, Yandere,” Wilford says, “I brought you here to ask: Do you remember anything about being with Anti? Did he give you any inclination of what he was planning?”

The whole group looks to Yandere with rapt attention. Yandere squirms a little under their gaze, but answers without hesitation.

“Not much,” he says, “He was really secretive about everything. But thinking about it, that kind of proves he was planning something in itself, right? He at least planned from the start that he wouldn’t be keeping me forever. Otherwise he’d brag about it to me or something.”

“That does sound like something Anti would do,” Google muses.

“Did he give anything away?” asks Plus. “Anything at all?”

“A little?” Yandere seems unsure. “I guess it’s hard to tell, since I don’t know what his plan is in the first place. And it’s…hard to sift through everything. I was in such a different mindset when I was his puppet.”

Dr. Iplier chooses that moment to reach out below the table and take Yandere’s hand giving it a comforting squeeze. It seems to help; Yandere sits up a little straighter and holds Dr. Iplier’s hand back.

“But…there were some things,” Yandere admits. “The biggest thing was this…potion he showed me once.”

A flash of cold runs through Dr. Iplier, top to bottom. He hopes Yandere can’t feel it through their shared hands. Maybe it’s masked by the chill that runs through the room at Yandere’s statement.

“A potion?” asks Bim.

“I think that’s what it was,” Yandere says, “It was this liquid in a tiny little bottle, and it didn’t look like any liquid I’d seen before. It was really dark purple, but sometimes it flashed red or blue in the light. Guritchi said something about how it was the key to everything. That potion, and…and me.”

“Well, I couldn’t say what potion that is without seeing it for myself,” Bim says, thinking aloud. “Or even what type it is. But it must’ve been what let Anti split Dark apart, and if that’s true…it _must_ be magic. Either Anti used it on Dark, or he used it on himself to be able to take Dark’s aura by force.”

“Isn’t that what you do?” Bing asks. “Like, splitting things up and stuff?”

“Yes,” Bim says, “It might be a similar magic. But whatever it is, it’s stronger than me. You say it was a tiny amount, Yandere?”

“Yeah.” Yandere lifts the hand that Dr. Iplier isn’t holding to gesture the size of the potion. “About this big.” Bim nods, as though he expected that.

“An amount that small is probably a single dose,” Bim says, “And it was probably heavily concentrated to give it so much power. It takes a really skilled, determined magician to make something like that. No way Anti could’ve managed it; he’s powerful, but he has no mind for magic.”

“C-Could he have taken it from you?” Eric asks nervously. “He t-took Yandere before, a-and he came back to kill D-Dark…”

“I don’t do potions.” Bim waves off his concern. “But…” His eyes get a little wider. “…Marvin the Magnificent does.”

A silence settles over the room.

“I’ve tried to get in touch with him since Dark died,” Bim continues, suddenly downcast. “To warn him about Anti, and all that, but…I haven’t gotten a response. He hasn’t even read my texts.”

“Chase has been pretty MIA too,” Bing admits, scratching the back of his neck. “I wanted to warn him, too.”

“Jackie’s been impossible to reach…” Silver murmurs, twisting his hands.

_“And Dapper Jim,”_ CJ signs sadly.

“And Henrik,” Plus adds quietly.

The news is surprising to Dr. Iplier. Henrik is a casual friend to him, borderline acquaintance but they get along well enough. Dr. Iplier had been too caught up in looking after his patients and wallowing in guilt and fear to try contacting him. It hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Not that it mattered, evidently, if he’s been as silent as the rest of the Septics. The others seem shocked, too…and worried.

“Anti had to have taken that potion from Marvin,” Bim murmurs, “But…to what end? What’s his game plan?”

“I don’t know,” Yandere says, quiet. “The only other useful thing I remember is him telling me we were going somewhere right before I woke up.”

“Huh?” Bing asks, not following.

“I mean…” Yandere squirms again. “Sometimes he’d do this thing, fill my head with static. That’s what it felt like. Everything just turned into fuzz. Whatever happened during that time, I don’t remember. According to Guritchi I was still aware of him and still listened to him, but I don’t remember anything that happened during it. He did that to me after telling me we were leaving, and the next thing I knew I was awake and free.” Yandere’s gaze hardens. “He brought me along to kill Yami, and left me here after, but for some reason he didn’t want me to remember it. Why else would he have done that?” He looks down. “I mean, maybe he was worried that seeing Yami get hurt would make me snap out of his control, but he let me go anyway, so…”

Silence reigns again. It seems Yandere’s input has created just as many questions as it answered.

“I have my own question,” Yandere says. He looks at Damien, who nearly jumps under his gaze. “We’ll be able to get Yami’s aura back, Bim-san or Wil can take it from Guritchi. But when we get it…will we be able to get Yami back? Can we recombine all his parts into a whole?”

The silence is thicker now. Dr. Iplier suspects that Yandere’s asked the question that everyone’s been thinking but no one was brave enough to ask. Everyone’s looking around uncomfortably.

“Now, hold on a minute,” Wilford says, conflicted, “I want Dark back, too, but we can’t just force Damien to go back to that. If it’s even possible, then it should be Damien’s choice.”

“Well…” Damien says with a grim smile, “I don’t have much of a choice at all, do I?”

Wilford frowns deeply, but says nothing more.

“From what I remember of Dark’s creation,” Damien continues, “The circumstances were…unusual.” The memory is clearly hard to recall, after so many decades past. “Celine had never seen anything like what was happening to us. Dark’s aura…it’s not just an aura. It’s a creature, an entity, it has its own mind.” Damien looks away. “It lived in the manor first, drove Mark mad, not that he needed much help…” He shakes his head. “What I mean to say is…it chose us for a reason. The DA’s death–” His breath hitches briefly, but he continues. “–was what allowed that entity to maintain a form. It came into the body, and dragged Celine and I with it.” He pauses. “We didn’t know that right away, though. At least, I didn’t. Celine did. She tried to keep it from me, protect me. But something was always broken. By the time we kicked the DA out of their own body, we weren’t…we weren’t ourselves anymore. We weren’t the entity, either, and it was never Dark, but it was what made him who he was. It controlled everything.”

“If the entity chose to create Dark,” Wilford mutters, “Why didn’t it just make Dark again after he split apart?”

“I imagine it couldn’t,” Damien says, “It needed a body, for one thing. The DA’s body crumbled, from what I understand.” Host and Dr. Iplier, who both saw the immediate aftermath of the split, nod. Dr. Iplier shudders remembering that pile of ash. “Anti might have forced the entity away with him,” Damien continues, “But the entity might have chosen to go with him. It’s attracted to strife. My sister and I lost ourselves to suffering. The DA had just died, in pain and confused. Even before that, it latched onto Mark to break him, and Mark was already hateful and hurting. From what I remember of Anti, he’s a creature of hatred. He breeds chaos. The entity might have gravitated to that.”

Dr. Iplier remembers the way the aura floated over himself and Yandere, ignoring them both in favor of swirling around Anti’s arms, legs, torso. Maybe Anti has just the right brand of hate and suffering for it.

“If that’s true,” Bim murmurs, “Taking the aura from him will be even harder than we thought. It’s hard enough getting Anti out of people’s heads when they don’t want him there, but if the aura _wants_ to be with him, it’ll be twice as difficult to pull it away.”

“There’s also the matter of getting him a new body…” Google adds, “It may be able to use Damien’s body now that he has his own, but it may only be able to hijack a dead body.”

“Oh, that’s easy enough to solve!” Wilford says amicably, pulling out his gun. “I can just grab any ol’ fellow off the streets, can’t I?”

“Please don’t,” Damien says, grimacing.

“It’s…inelegant,” Google muses, “But it could work. The entity used Damien’s appearance as a mask, the appearance and build of the DA was irrelevant.”

“I suppose it would have to be fresh, though…” Wilford hums. “Once we get the aura back and take care of Anti, I can just zip out, grab a person, and come right back!”

“That’s barbaric,” Damien mutters, a little green.

Wilford pouts, but doesn’t seem to know what to say. Dr. Iplier can’t help but feel bad for Damien: Wilford and Dark were so close, as were William and Damien, but Wilford and Damien…they’re too different. They’re from two different worlds. Damien cares for Wilford, but Wilford isn’t the man he used to be. Dr. Iplier suspects this is one of many moments that’s cementing that notion into Damien’s head. He can only imagine how it would feel to come back to the world after years of being locked away, to find that your only remaining friend has completely changed.

“But, besides,” Damien continues, recovering, “Just any person won’t do. The entity is attracted to tragedy, not just pain by itself. Killing a person who had a good life or even a normal life likely won’t be enough to attract the entity.” He sighs, puts a hand to his own chest. “There’s a possibility that my body can be used, since my old one was stolen by Mark before the entity could claim it. That might be the best plan.” He shakes his head, lowers his hand. “Of course, we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. We still need to get the entity away from Anti, and to do that, we need to figure out where Anti is.”

“I have no idea where he kept me,” Yandere murmurs, “I mean…it was probably in the UK somewhere, but I have no idea where. My room had no windows, I had no TV or computer or radio. He might’ve let me outside when I had static in my head, but I don’t know for sure, and I can’t remember it anyway.”

“It must be bloody far from his old hideout,” Wilford grumbles, “We already know it’s at least a mile away, but it’s probably a lot more.”

“And it’d be far from the other Septics, too,” Bim points out, “Otherwise Marvin or Jackie could’ve found it and stopped him, and there’s no way Anti would leave an opening for that.”

“We might be able to monitor stuff around there,” Oliver says, thinking aloud, “But considering how none of us have been able to talk to the Septics, Anti might be interfering with the signal.”

“If that’s true, it’ll take hours to get any decent footage from the area,” Chrome counters, “And that’s assuming the footage tells us anything at all, and isn’t just a random street or something.”

“That’s the best-case scenario for why the Septics haven’t answered us, isn’t it?” MarkBop murmurs. “How likely is it that Anti’s hurt them?”

“…Very likely,” Wilford sighs, “But it’d take a lot of power to do both, at least.”

“Anti has enough power now,” Damien points out, “If the entity is a part of him willingly, then he’s easily twice as strong as he was before.”

The room is quiet for many long moments.

“Well,” Wilford says breezily, “I think that’s enough for today. We obviously have a lot to think about. You’re all dismissed.”

It’s a terrible note to end on, but Wilford has a point. A lot of questions were answered, sure, but plenty more are up in the air. The egos mumble to each other pensively as they file out. Dr. Iplier stands to take Yandere back to the clinic. But Host stands too, and it’s obvious he wants to talk.

“Hey, kid,” Dr. Iplier says to Yandere as he gets up, too, “You still feel good?”

“Yeah,” Yandere says, “Just tired.” He certainly looks it; he hasn’t been awake long but he’s trembling minutely and his eyes are only half-open.

“Ask Wil to take you back to the clinic. I’ll be there soon, I want to talk to Host for a bit.”

“Sure.” Yandere gives Dr. Iplier a quick hug, which he returns. “Hey, onii-san–!”

Dr. Iplier chuckles as Yandere dashes to Wilford, and in a few moments, the pair poof away. By now, the room is clear, the only ones left are Dr. Iplier and Host. Host wraps his arms around Dr. Iplier’s waist from behind, putting his head on Dr. Iplier’s shoulder.

“I haven’t talked to you much lately,” he murmurs into Dr. Iplier’s ear, “How are you?”

It’s true; Dr. Iplier’s been so focused on Yandere these past few days that he’s hardly seen Host at all. They’ve both been busy trying to figure out what’s happening, trying to make things better.

“G-Good,” Dr. Iplier answers, shivering a little from Host’s breath in his ear, “A lot…a lot better, now that Yan’s awake.”

“You look better,” Host says. He kisses Dr. Iplier’s neck, soft and gentle. “I know yesterday must’ve been hard for you, but Yandere also seems improved.”

“Mm,” Dr. Iplier mumbles, “Poor kid was beside himself. He’s still not completely okay. I don’t think he ever will be unless we get Dark back.” He turns around to face Host, see his warm yet subdued expression, and drape his arms over his shoulders. “You didn’t say anything during the meeting, I’m surprised.”

“I had nothing to add,” Host says, shrugging. “I’ll have to alter the way I’ve been looking for information with these new additions.” He frowns. “But I don’t need my visions to tell me that things are going to get _very_ complicated.”

“No kidding,” sighs Dr. Iplier, letting his head drop into Host’s shoulder. “They’re complicated _now._ The whole building feels so different without Dark, to say nothing of Damien and Celine being here…”

Host nods, moving a hand from Dr. Iplier’s waist to stroke his hair. He thinks for a moment.

“Damien cares deeply,” Host finally says, “He remembers pieces of all of us, and seems to value us in ways that Dark didn’t, or at least didn’t show. But he’s afraid. He’s acutely aware that he is in a building full of violent, dangerous people that only a person like Dark was able to keep in line. His fear is compounded by the fact that the most violent and dangerous person of all used to be his greatest friend.” Dr. Iplier hums in agreement.

“It’s hard,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, “Seeing someone you care about change so drastically.”

Host stiffens. Dr. Iplier lifts his head from Host’s shoulder to see Host’s tense expression.

“What happened between Damien and Wilford is…not the same,” Host says quietly.

“I know,” Dr. Iplier says, moving forward to give Host a gentle kiss.

Host kisses back, and slowly relaxes. When he pulls away, it’s only for a moment to take a breath, before he kisses Dr. Iplier as gently as Dr. Iplier did him. Well, maybe not quite as gently. He holds Dr. Iplier closer, tighter than before, and Dr. Iplier matches his slowly-increasing intensity. When they pull away again, Dr. Iplier speaks.

“Walk with me to the clinic,” he says. Host pouts, and Dr. Iplier can’t help but laugh. “I have to go back, Host, I have to look after Yan.”

“You can spare a few minutes,” Host says. “Wilford took Yandere to the clinic, correct? I’m sure he’ll stay with him a while, he’s missed him quite a bit. And besides,” He flashes a wry smile, “I’ve spent nearly a week pouring over timelines and examining every possibility. I can promise you that Yandere is safe in the clinic.”

Host has a point. If anyone would know for sure that nothing bad will happen, it’d be him. And Dr. Iplier can’t deny how much he’s missed Host. Even before he was caught up with taking care of Yandere, he was too consumed by the knowledge of Anti’s plans to enjoy Host’s company. Host may not have known the full reason why Dr. Iplier was so high-strung, but it must have been rough for him, too. Dr. Iplier’s guilt and fear hasn’t gone away, but it’s lower-level now, settled into the cracks in his heart. He knows, despite his guilt, that they both need each other for a little while.

“Isaac,” he whispers, “Are you…afraid? I’m…” He trails off.

Host takes his time in answering, stroking Dr. Iplier’s hair again as he thinks.

“No,” he finally admits. “I’m apprehensive, wary, uncertain…but I’ve not yet seen enough to fear.” He frowns. “Something is blocking my visions, more than Anti’s unpredictability. There’s a missing piece that I don’t yet have, and its absence is creating dead ends.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart thumps. Could his own lie be preventing Host from seeing the whole future? Maybe he should tell him. There’s no one Dr. Iplier trusts more, maybe he can explain himself and they can –

“Nevermind,” Host says, shaking his head. “We’ve both had enough bad news and anxiety.” He smiles again. “I’ve been missing you, Edward, and if I may, I’d like to have you to myself for a little while.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart pounds again, for a different reason. Any explanation of his lie that he might have had dies in his throat. He smiles back at Host before kissing him again.

“You may,” he whispers against Host’s lips.

Dr. Iplier can feel Host’s answering grin.

The unspoken truth is easy to forget, easy to drown under love and arousal, easy to hide under himself, under Host, under the blankets of Host’s bed, deep in the library and deeper in Dr. Iplier’s mind. The truth is ignorable, barely a thought at all when Dr. Iplier is so caught up in sensation, rough and gentle touch, loud and soft sound, harsh and unwinding release.

It’s not until afterwards, when the bruises pressed into Dr. Iplier’s hips and peppered over his neck start to sting, when he forces his loose muscles to get himself dressed again, when he lingers at the doorway to kiss Host one more time, that his lie returns to the front of his mind. It sits sour on his tongue, bittering the taste of Host in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~bow chicka wow wow~~


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: The egos get new information from an unexpected outside source, compelling Dr. Iplier to reconsider his silence.  
> Warnings: Mild blood and violence, intense emotions ;u;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS A WEEK LATE ;w; Especially since I only have one more chapter other than this finished and might be late again in the future ;;;w;;;
> 
> I was with family all weekend and kept forgetting throughout the week. But hopefully the stuff that happens in this chapter is worth the wait, because, oh boy, does stuff happen owo"
> 
> Enjoy!

A few days later, Yandere is well enough to be discharged from the clinic. As much as Dr. Iplier wants to keep him there, he knows Yandere has made a lot of recovery progress already, and Yandere himself is itching to leave. Dr. Iplier knows, too, that it’s mostly his own fear and concern over his boy that’s making him want to keep Yandere close, and not Yandere’s actual condition. Still, he can’t help but lecture Yandere as he’s preparing to discharge him, insisting that he be careful and take it easy until he’s fully healed.

“Oh, lay off, Doc!” chides Wilford, who poofed in a few minutes ago with the intent to hang out with Yandere for his first day out of the clinic. “He gets it, just let him go already.”

“I’ll be careful, Dad, I swear,” Yandere adds.

“Alright, alright,” Dr. Iplier sighs. “I just worry about you, kiddo.”

That’s an understatement if there ever was one. It’s not just Yandere’s physical injuries Dr. Iplier’s worried about; it’s his emotional hurt, too. After that first night, Yandere hasn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time without waking with a nightmare. Sometimes it’s about Dark, about how he must have felt to be torn apart, and Yandere will cry anew for him, weeping until he exhausts himself back to sleep. Sometimes it’s about Anti, about the mental and physical torture Yandere suffered under his control, and Yandere will wake screaming and begging for mercy, shaking in Dr. Iplier’s arms until Dr. Iplier manages to coax him back to sleep. Even now, standing before Dr. Iplier and begging to be discharged, there’s a sad, tired glaze to his eyes, a difference in the way he carries himself.

None of that has to be said. Yandere’s expression softens and he walks up to Dr. Iplier to hug him.

“I’ll be okay eventually, Dad,” Yandere murmurs, “I already feel a lot better.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart burns. He can’t help but think of the additional two weeks he let Yandere suffer as he tried to figure out what to do about Anti’s plan. Still, he hugs Yandere back, squeezing tight.

“Alright, sweet pea,” he says, kissing Yandere’s forehead, “I’ll let you go. Just–”

“Be careful, I know!” Yandere laughs, stepping out of the hug. “I got it, Dad. I promise I’ll go easy on myself.”

“Wilford!” calls a sudden new voice.

Everyone turns to see Silver Shepherd dashing into the room, skidding on the clinic tile and nearly crashing into a cart. He’s not winded thanks to his super-endurance, but he might as well be. He pants not with exertion, but with shock and urgency.

“What do you want?” Wilford asks, grumpy at his intrusion. Yandere and Dr. Iplier regard Silver much less critically.

Silver holds up a small gadget – not his phone but his communicator; about the same size as his phone but with a much stronger signal, meant only for talking to Jackie on patrols and connecting to police and fire stations and hospitals. Silver speaks before the others can intuit his reason for showing it.

“Jackieboy Man made contact. He wants to talk to us, all of us. As soon as possible.”

The quiet is stark. Dr. Iplier’s eyes go wide, as do Yandere’s. Wilford’s frown deepens.

“Come on, then,” he says brusquely, approaching Silver, “Let’s take it to the Googles, see if we can get–” He poofs himself and Silver away, presumably to the control room.

Dr. Iplier spares a moment of sympathy for Silver getting tossed through Wilford’s void with no warning, but it’s trifling, barely present under the apprehension. What news does Jackie have for the egos? Dr. Iplier can’t help but feel like things are about to get even worse than they already are. The look on Yandere’s face suggests he’s thinking the same.

“What’s Jackie-san going to tell us?” Yandere asks him, trembling just a little.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Iplier says, putting an arm around him, “But I bet we’ll find out.”

Sure enough, only a few minutes later the pair each get a ping on their phones for an urgent, immediate meeting.

~~~

Dr. Iplier and Yandere take their now-usual seats at the conference table, and the room fills quickly. People are talking amongst each other, but much more quietly and subdued than normal. One could choose a conversation to eavesdrop on if they so desired, as the other noise in the room is minimal. The wall past the end of the table has a flat-screen TV attached there, similar to the end of Markiplier TV, from what Dr. Iplier remembers. They don’t really use the TV much, but right now, the Googles are working on it via the panel next to it on the wall, fiddling with AV cables. At the other end of the cables is Silver’s communicator. Silver himself is standing close by, nervously wringing his hands. Yandere looks over and catches Chrome’s eye as he works, and Chrome only frowns deeper, something desperate in his eyes.

“Alright,” Wilford says, loud over the whispers of the others, in lieu of the usual gunshot, “The reason we’re all here is that Silver–” Silver lifts a hand in a slight wave, “–received a message from Jackie on his communicator.” The whispers quiet as the other egos absorb the knowledge. “The Googles are trying to connect the communicator to the TV so we can speak to Jackie as a group. Jackie himself has news he wants to share with all of us.”

“Got it,” Google says, just as the TV flickers to life. The screen is still mostly black, but with white around the edge, just as the face cam feed on Silver’s communicator currently is. Google nods to Silver, who presses a button on his communicator.

A loading circle appears in the center of the blackness. The room is so silent that Dr. Iplier can just barely hear Silver murmuring “C’mon Jackie, pick up, please pick up,” under his breath.

After what feels like days but is only twenty or so seconds, Jackie appears on the TV.

Nearly everyone gasps, and no wonder: Jackie looks awful. One eye is nearly swollen shut, the other is open but ringed black and purple. His nose is crooked like it’s been broken recently, his nostrils are crusted with blood. His lip is split, his neck is lined as red as his suit, like someone tried to garrote him. His hood is down revealing his green hair, messy and dull. His suit covers the bruises and cuts that must be on his shoulders and upper chest, but there are some tears that reveal jagged gashes underneath. The worst of it, though, is Jackie’s expression: Normally bright, happy, optimistic, now tired, worn, hollow. His injuries remind Dr. Iplier of Yandere’s before he healed, and his expression is far too close to the look in Yandere’s eyes now, the look of someone haunted.

Yandere must see it too, because Dr. Iplier feels him hide his face in Dr. Iplier’s shoulder. Dr. Iplier lets him, and takes his hand to squeeze comfortingly as Yandere starts to shiver.

“Hey, glad I could get a hold of Silver,” Jackie says, trying for a smile and wave. His accent is there, but the bounce and volume are gone. He doesn’t sound like the same person.

“I could say the same about you!” Silver exclaims. No one looks more upset by the sight of Jackie than Silver; even through his mask his distress is tangible. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, and the others have been trying to talk to your brothers.”

“I suppose,” Wilford cuts in from the head of the table, putting both his hands on the tabletop, “That you’re here to give explanations to that?”

“Yeah,” Jackie says, sighing. “I needed to tell all of you, it’s too important for just Silver and Dark – well, Wilford.”

Damien is at the table, too, and his jaw tenses at the stumble.

“Look, I’ll just come out and say it.” Jackie heaves a shuddering breath, then seems to steel himself. “Anti’s taken the others.”

The whole room gasps again.

“What??” Bim is the one to shout, “Even–”

“He took Marvin first.” Jackie cuts him off. His eyes are full of pain. “I guess he knew Marvin would be the hardest to defeat, so he wanted to get him first while he had the element of surprise. He took JJ and Schneep next. He probably figured they’d go down easier since he’s puppeted them before. I mean, I guess he was right. He got them, too.” Jackie looks away then, starting to tremble. “I tried to keep Chase and Robbie safe, but Anti took them too before long.” He looks back at the others. There are tears in his eyes. “It only took him a few days to take them all from me. He didn’t need to recharge or recover from attacks. We’d break our backs driving him away and he’d be back a few hours later, fighting us just as hard as before. And the more of us he took, the less we could fight, because we can’t just hurt our brothers.” Jackie breathes in, rough. “I know Anti’s not done. He’s leaving me for last. He’s attacked a few times, as you can tell–” He gestures to his face, “–but I think he’s going easy on me. I think he wanted me to get in contact with you guys. He didn’t let us before, god knows we tried. He jammed our signals, even for my communicator.” His eyes glint. “It’s not luck that I’m talking to you guys now. Anti’s letting me. He wants me to talk to you, let you know about all the havoc he’s caused.”

“He’s sending a message,” Wilford muses.

“Exactly,” Jackie sighs. “And the thing about all this is…” Jackie shakes his head again, like he barely trusts his own memory. “Anti’s not normally this _strong._ If he always had the ability to do something like this, he wouldn’t have waited so long. But I _know_ he didn’t. The way he controlled the others, how he made them fight…they weren’t mindless, but they didn’t have the normal level of free will his puppets have. They were somewhere weird in between. And I swear they were _stronger._ The thing that made Anti stronger made the others stronger, too.” His eyes go distant. “Chase was always scrappy, but he was never so _fast._ Schneep never had the knack for fighting at all, but he threw a scalpel from across the room and gave me this.” He points to a hole in his suit, a hole deep in his skin. “Robbie’s never really been able to control his strength or channel it into aggression, but he was like an animal with Anti controlling him. And Marvin’s magic is stronger, and I don’t know how many times JJ was able to reverse and fast-forward time as we fought…” He sighs again against the memories. “Point is, this isn’t typical. I had a hunch as to how Anti got so strong, and I think I’m right, considering Dark isn’t here.”

“Dark’s aura,” Wilford growls.

Jackie nods.

Everyone in the room is frozen with fear just imagining it all. The ones with a friend or two among the Septics are in tears. Dr. Iplier is horrified. Everything he feared about Anti using Dark’s power is coming to life and then some. Beside him, Yandere hasn’t lifted his head from Dr. Iplier’s shoulder, and his trembling has only increased. Dr. Iplier pulls Yandere into his lap and starts to quietly soothe him, trying to distract them both. Yandere whimpers into Dr. Iplier’s neck. His tears are warm on Dr. Iplier’s skin.

“Do you have any idea about what Anti’s plan is, or was?” Bim asks, crying but fighting to keep his voice steady. “We know he used a potion he stole from Marvin, and he took Yandere and kept him as a puppet for a long time. But he let Yandere go after he got Dark’s aura. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it was a potion from Marvin,” Jackie mutters, suddenly bitter. “I told him a hundred times to stop making shit he didn’t need, but he always said he hid them–” The anger falls out of him in a sigh. “Of course Anti found it. He probably always knew where they were. As for Yandere…”

Jackie glances at Yandere, who doesn’t look up from Dr. Iplier’s neck. His gaze softens as he thinks. He probably remembers weeks ago, when Dark and Wilford questioned him about Yandere’s disappearance, before they knew for certain it was Anti’s doing.

“I can’t say why Anti took Yandere like that, but…” Jackie considers. “If he was able to get into Ego Inc. and kidnap Yandere, logic says that he should’ve been able to sneak in and use the potion on Dark himself without all that preamble. Anti’s just reckless enough to try it, but he’s smart, too. He probably knew that if he failed even once, he’d never get another chance. He had to be absolutely sure he could do it. And it couldn’t have been easy to get the drop on someone like Dark.”

“Dark was hurt when Anti took his aura,” Wilford says, subdued and sad. “He’d gotten in a fight with Infelix and got badly burned.”

“He must’ve been waiting for an opening like that,” Jackie continues. He pauses. “But wait, if Dark was hurt, he would’ve been in the clinic, right?”

“Dr. Iplier was there,” Host pipes up, “And The Host arrived soon after. The Host came too late to know exactly what happened, and Dr. Iplier was in shock and had no memory of what he saw. He still does not know what happened.”

Jackie looks toward Dr. Iplier. Even through the TV screen, Dr. Iplier can feel the burn of Jackie’s intense gaze.

“Really?” he asks, somewhere between desperation and disbelief.

“Really,” Dr. Iplier lies. It’s not the first time he’s told that lie, but it’s the hardest, speaking it to the face of someone who’s lost so much to Dr. Iplier’s decisions.

For only a moment, Jackie’s eyes narrow, and then he sighs and shakes his head. But Dr. Iplier’s heart pounds.

_“He knows I’m lying.”_

“The piece that doesn’t fit is Yandere,” Jackie muses, “There’s no reason to kidnap him unless he wanted a distraction, or…”

“Or…?” Wilford prompts.

“Or leverage.” Jackie finishes. “Leverage against Dark, or you, or someone else. With a plan this big, where one little slip-up would mean failure, Anti would’ve done whatever he had to do to increase his chance of success. Yandere has to fit somewhere in there. But I can’t say how, I don’t know enough.” Pain filters back into his expression. “All I know is that Anti has more power than he ever dreamed. He’s collecting puppets. He got all my brothers, and I know he won’t stop after he gets me. I’ve gotten some communication from other figments he’s attacked. I think he’s looking for the stronger ones, ones he can turn into puppets, and killing the weaker ones so they can’t band together and stop him.” He stares out at all of the egos. “You guys are the strongest figments around. Anti _will_ come after you, and you have to be ready to face him. If you can’t stop him then nobody can.” He sighs, resigned. “I’m not strong enough to stop him, especially not when he has my brothers to use against me. I won’t hurt them. I can’t. They’ll defeat me and Anti will make me a puppet just like the rest of them. It has to be you.”

“Oh, we’ll stop him alright,” Wilford growls, eyes bright pink. “We’ll rip him to shreds.”

Jackie grins, bitter.

“Good.” His grin falls. “That’s all I have. I hope it was helpful, at least.”

“Very,” Wilford says with a nod.

“I’m so sorry, Jackie,” Silver says, quiet and somber. He’s probably crying under his mask. “We’ll stop him, and you’ll get your brothers back.”

Jackie smiles, sad and tired but genuine. His eyes shine with tears.

“Thanks, Silver,” Jackie whispers, as though suddenly too choked up to speak any louder. “Good luck, all of you.” His smile shakes and falls. “You’re going to need it.”

The call ends.

The TV screen goes black again.

“New rule,” Wilford says, eyes still pink with rage, “No one leaves this building. If Anti’s coming we absolutely cannot risk anyone getting hurt out there. We stay here and _stay alert._ The Googles–” He nods to them, “–will be monitoring the city through cameras, looking for any sign of Anti. If any of _you_ see something, me or Host has to know.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We still don’t have all the answers, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What’s important is stopping Anti. You’re all dismissed.”

The room bursts into flurries of muttering as the egos talk amongst themselves, but quietly, still in shock. Wilford storms away with Host following behind, leaving Dr. Iplier sitting in his chair with Yandere still in his lap.

“Did Anti just take me for fun?” Yandere whimpers. “Did he kidnap me and torture me just because he felt like it?? Was it just – just fucking _set dressing_ for his actual plan!?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, stroking his hair.

_“I know why Anti took him, I know everything,”_ he can’t stop himself from thinking.

Dr. Iplier’s phone buzzes. He’s surprised, but he gets it out of his pocket – a feat with Yandere still in his lap – in case it’s important. And it must be, because it’s Jackie’s name that pops up on Dr. Iplier’s screen. He’s had Jackie’s number for a while, in case something happened to Silver while the pair were working together. He opens the message:

_You know something they don’t. Whatever it is, you have to tell them. It could help them stop Anti, and even if it doesn’t, they deserve to know the truth._

Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks, because Jackie’s right. Knowing the truth may not help them fight Anti; knowing how Anti got Dark’s aura doesn’t matter for that. But it still matters to the egos. It matters to Yandere, to his recovery. It matters to Host, to the blind spot – in every sense of the phrase – in his visions. It matters to anyone who cares about either of them, anyone who fears being taken in the night and puppeted next. After all the secrecy and hiding, all the paranoia and guilt, it seems inevitable that Dr. Iplier would end up here.

_“The question is, will you admit to what you’ve done, or will you hide the truth like a coward?”_ Anti had asked.

Dr. Iplier cannot be a coward any longer.

But it still takes him a few hours to gather up the strength to go to Wilford, to tell him that he has something important to say.

“Well, go ahead,” Wilford says.

“It…it has to be a meeting,” Dr. Iplier answers, voice shaking. “Everyone has to know.”

It must be the look on Dr. Iplier’s face, or the way he’s carrying himself, or something else about him that makes Wilford nod and send out the notification instead of scoffing at the idea of two meetings in a single day. Ordinarily that’d be strange, but nothing is strange anymore.

Well, not nothing.

The meeting room fills up, again. Wilford sits at the head, again. But Dr. Iplier doesn’t take up his usual seat between Yandere and Host. Instead, he stands at the end, and the other egos are bewildered by it. Dr. Iplier tries not to meet anyone’s eyes, but he can’t help but glance at his loved ones. Yandere is utterly confused, and Host is surprised not to sense Dr. Iplier beside him. Dr. Iplier’s heart is pounding harder than it ever has, he struggles not to hyperventilate. He has to stay in control. He has to turn on his doctor side. He has to be clinical, he has to speak simply, he cannot let emotion get in the way of this.

“We’re here again,” Wilford begins, addressing the room’s obvious question, “Because Doc has something we need to know.” He gestures to him.

Every eye in the room zeroes in on Dr. Iplier.

“Okay,” Dr. Iplier says, trying to keep his voice steady, “I just want to ask before I start that…that no one say anything until I’m done. Alright?”

Wilford shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. Some other egos nod, all continue to stare. Yandere and Host’s brows furrow.

It’s now or never.

Dr. Iplier takes a deep breath and begins.

“I should start from the beginning,” he says, quiet and slow. “A couple weeks after Yandere disappeared, Anti…Anti snuck into the clinic and grabbed me.” The others gasp. Dr. Iplier continues. “He teleported me to his cabin, the place where he was keeping Yan.” Dr. Iplier closes his eyes, remembering. “He showed Yan to me, but he put so much static in Yan’s head that he didn’t register anything around him, except for Anti’s voice. He told me how he could get into Ego Inc. just enough to condition Yandere, and during that storm, he came into the building through a lightning bolt and took Yan away. Anti taunted me, and told me everything. He showed me the same potion Yan saw, told me how he stole it from Marvin, told me how he planned to kill Dark and take his aura with it, and…and…” Dr. Iplier takes in a shaky breath. He can’t go back from this. He opens his eyes, but looks down at the table, unable to look the others in the eye. “And how he wanted me to be the one to use it.”

The room gasps again, and some start to murmur, until Wilford smacks a hand on the table to silence them. Dr. Iplier looks at him, avoiding the gaze of the others. Wilford gestures for him to continue. His expression is dangerous. Dr. Iplier shivers and directs his eyes to the table once more.

“He knew he only had one chance to give Dark the potion,” Dr. Iplier explains, “And Yandere was his means to that end. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sneak up on Dark. At first he thought he could make Yandere do it, but it seemed too risky. He knew no amount of brainwashing or possession could make Yandere hurt Dark, and he doubted he’d be able to hide Yandere’s brainwashing if he sent him back to us. So instead, he used Yan to get to me.” He tightens his fists against his sides, one beat, then relaxes. His hands start shaking. “He told me to take the potion and use it on Dark when I got an opportunity. If I refused, he’d kill Yan, as many times as it took for him to fade. If I told anyone, he’d do the same. If I got an opportunity and hesitated, he’d come and kill Dark himself, and then he’d kill Yan. But if I did it, he’d give Yan back. So he sent me back with the potion. For another two weeks I tried to think of a way out. I…I reasoned that Anti didn’t know for sure what the potion would do, he’d admitted that. I thought maybe it wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do to Dark. And that even if it worked, Anti could never take something as powerful as Dark’s aura for himself. And I didn’t–” His breath hitches, he struggles not to sob. “–I didn’t want to lose Yandere. I couldn’t forgive myself if I let him die. And I knew that even if we somehow managed to find that cabin and get him back, we wouldn’t be able to do it before Anti killed him, and we might’ve lost him forever.” Dr. Iplier shudders, tries to look up but can’t. “So I did it. After Dark got hurt in that fight with Infelix, I…I…injected him with the potion.”

The room gasps a third time, people start to shout, and this time, Wilford fires a round into the ceiling to quiet them. Dr. Iplier dares not look at him.

“It split him apart into Damien, Celine, the DA’s body, and his aura,” Dr. Iplier continues, remembering how Dark fell apart in front of him. “After it happened, Anti came with Yandere. He kept his promise, he released his control of him. Dark’s aura went right to him, he didn’t even have to take it by force. He said…” Dr. Iplier struggles to keep speaking. “He said I didn’t have to keep anything a secret anymore. That it didn’t matter now that he had what he wanted. But when Host came in I just…I froze. I couldn’t admit it. I thought, I feared, but I _hoped_ he’d find out the whole thing by narrating, but he didn’t. And I just couldn’t make myself tell the truth. Not then, not after, not until now. Jackie took one look at me today and figured out I was lying. He didn’t know what I did, but he knew I was hiding something. He texted me after he signed off, he told me you all needed to know. And he’s right. You have to know. All of you. I’m sorry.” He still cannot lift his head, still cannot face what he’s done. Tears start falling, hitting the table one at a time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

There’s a long beat of silence.

Then the room explodes.

Shouting, crying, screaming out, chairs tossed back, hands slammed on the table. Dr. Iplier finally, finally forces his gaze up to see chaos. Half the egos are arguing with each other, the other half are yelling at Dr. Iplier, all of them talking over each other.

“Dr. Iplier, why on earth did you–”

“You heard him, it was to protect Yandere!”

“But he _killed_ Dark!”

“If it were my kid, I woulda done the same!”

“Letting Yandere die would have been regrettable; however, letting Dark die is already causing much more harm.”

“He should’ve told us, maybe we could’ve found Yandere!”

“Anti would have known, he would’ve killed him!”

“Would that have been any worse than _this?”_

“He _killed_ one of us! How are we supposed to trust him now!?”

Their arguments go in circles, and they soon get too caught up in them to yell at Dr. Iplier anymore. Every ego is a part of it, even Eric and Oliver are raising their voices with the others, even the Jims are arguing furiously; CJ’s wide, angry signing just as volatile as his brother’s shouting. But Dr. Iplier can’t focus on any of them, there’s other people whose reactions matter more to him.

Wilford has his head buried in his hands, and Dr. Iplier can’t tell if he’s heaving with sobs or if he’s struggling not to completely lose his temper. Damien is making his way through the crowd to help him, his own face white, now that he knows for sure what happened in that blank spot of Dark’s memory, now that he knows what was happening right under Dark’s nose. Host is sitting ramrod straight in his chair, mouth open in shock, staring straight ahead of himself across the table, bandages darkening with blood, hands curled in tight fists. Worst of all, though, is Yandere, sitting hunched in his seat, staring into the middle distance, confused tears spilling down his cheeks, eyes redder than his hair. After a few moments, Dr. Iplier and Yandere’s eyes meet, and Yandere’s expression twists. He gets up and storms out of the room. Dr. Iplier follows him without a second thought, pushing through the crowd to the doorway. Most are so absorbed in their arguments that they barely notice.

“Yan!” he calls, making his way to the hall. “Yan, please!” He sees Yandere stop where he is, still facing away. Dr. Iplier runs to him, gasping with exertion or emotion or both. “Yan please, just hear–”

Yandere turns around and punches Dr. Iplier across the face in one smooth motion. Dr. Iplier is suddenly staring at the floor, struggling to stay upright. His jaw rattles with the force. His mouth fills with pain and something else. He spits a glob of blood and a tooth onto the floor.

“Yan,” he gasps.

“How could you??” Yandere cries, voice strained with tears. “You _killed_ Yami! You killed my senpai! This whole time you held me and comforted me and _you_ were the one who took him from me!!”

“I’m sorry I lied,” Dr. Iplier whispers, still in shock. His jaw throbs with pain, his chest throbs with hurt. “I’m so sorry I lied to you. And I’m sorry for what I did to Dark, you don’t know how sorry I am.”

“You’re still fucking lying!” Yandere screams, “If you were really fucking sorry you wouldn’t have killed him!!”

“I had no choice, don’t you see that!?” Dr. Iplier sobs, “If I didn’t do what Anti wanted he would’ve killed you!!”

_“Then you should’ve let him!!”_ Yandere howls. “I’d rather be _dead_ than live without Yami! How could you do this to me??”

“Son, please–” Dr. Iplier murmurs, aching, reaching out to wipe away Yandere’s tears.

“Stop,” Yandere chokes out, stepping back, away from Dr. Iplier’s hand, “Don’t say that now, just – not now, not now.” He turns and runs, crying the whole way down the hall.

Dr. Iplier stays rooted where he is, frozen, mouth open as every unsaid word congeals in his throat, burning as keen as his jaw. His heart was already broken after days of missing Yandere, days of watching him wake with nightmares, days of holding him as he cried, days of watching Yandere in pain, but now it’s positively shattered watching his – his – well, his nothing anymore, right? – run away from him.

As he stands there, two people – Chrome and Yancy – brush past him, running down the hall after Yandere to comfort him. They don’t give Dr. Iplier so much as a backwards glance. He has nothing left to do but turn and go back to the conference room, trudging through the doors. He can barely feel the tears still running down his face, his neck, off the end of his chin onto the door handle.

The room is still just as chaotic, but the chaos has shifted. On one side of the table, Wilford is storming up and down the length of it, one hand waving his gun in the air, the other buried in his hair, tight, almost pulling. His eyes are wild and pink, his face is stretched in an unnatural grin as he mutters to himself. Damien and Bim are following him as he goes, trying to talk to him, and the Jims are following Bim, watching silently with owlish eyes, unsure of what to do other than hold tight to each other’s hand. On the other side of the table, most of the other egos are giving Wilford a wide berth and gathered around something…someone else.

Dr. Iplier approaches to see The Host, and the pieces of his heart lurch in his chest. Host is curled over himself, hands tangled in his hair. Blood soaks through his bandages, runs down his cheek, dampens the front of his trench coat, puddles on the table, drips onto the floor. He’s already gone pale. He’s muttering so low and so fast that he’s impossible to understand, and he seems unable to stop.

_“The blocks in his visions are gone,”_ Dr. Iplier realizes, _“He can see all the futures he couldn’t before.”_

Host mutters and mutters until his words catch and he coughs, pulling his hands out of his hair to brace against the table. The puddle on the table sloshes into his hands, into the cuffs of his trench coat, off the table and onto his pants, but Host doesn’t seem to notice. When the cough leaves him, he bows his head, trembling, panting. His teeth are red. When he speaks again, he’s finally audible, voice dark with premonition.

“The egos have hundreds of futures laid ahead of them now,” Host gasps, “All are suffering. Many are death. Reality is flayed open, no one is safe.”

He lifts his head and, even without eyes, stares straight at Dr. Iplier through the crowd of egos.

“Nothing will ever be the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we get an F in chat for Dr. Iplier? Or maybe he deserves this? What do y'all think? :3c


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: The egos prepare for Anti and process Dr. Iplier’s confession, with some handling it worse than others.  
> Warnings: Intense grief, suicidal ideation, some sexual content at the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of sads here folks, not much else to say about this one ;w;
> 
> Enjoy!

As shocking as Dr. Iplier’s confession is, the egos don’t have much time to talk about it. Now that they know that Anti’s collecting puppets, they’re preoccupied with preparing for him to attack. Not that there’s much most of them can do; the Googles can search for his presence in the city, The Host can examine the future and look for the day he might come, Bim can practice his abilities and make sure he’s ready to pull Dark’s aura back from Anti or, in the worse case, pull Anti out of someone else. But most can’t do much else but worry.

Still, it doesn’t stop the egos from forming their own opinions of Dr. Iplier’s choice. Most agree that neither option was a good one. And even most of the ones who disagree with his decision can see why he made it: Just about everyone in the building has a person they would kill for. But their opinion of Dr. Iplier remains altered. If Dr. Iplier could find it in himself to kill Dark and hand his power to Anti, what else could he do? Can the egos trust him at all? Much like Dr. Iplier, though, they don’t have much choice in the matter. Tensions are already high, and if Anti is going to attack, they have to trust that their doctor will heal them after. No one wants to start infighting, not even the pettiest among them. Instead, the majority of the egos just avoid Dr. Iplier.

Wilford, for his part, has no clue what to think. He prefers the other egos avoiding Dr. Iplier to picking fights with him, at least, but his mind is scrambled on all else. Ever since Dark split apart (ever since Dr. Iplier killed him), Wilford’s been more lucid than he’s ever been. And yet, Wilford is no less confused, no less uncertain of how to react to anything, but much less blissfully ignorant. It’s a terrible combination, but he knows he can’t afford to regress now, not when the others need him. Dark, for all his eye-rolling and complaining about Wilford’s immaturity, still made him second-in-command for a reason. If he can do nothing else with his broken mind, Wilford will do his best to live up to Dark’s belief in him.

But it’s hard, so, so hard. As much as he loves having Damien back again, alive and well and finally found, it doesn’t fill the hole in his chest that Dark’s absence has caused. But Wilford still cares so much for Damien, and Damien cares for him, too. After all this time they’re still friends like nothing’s changed–

At least, that’s what Wilford thought, for those first few days at least.

Damien’s the one who hasn’t changed. He’s frozen in time from all those years apart from the world, observing bits and pieces of modernity through the filter of being a part of Dark. He’s still the same gentle, sweet, intelligent, and determined man he was so long ago. And even back then, he was uncertain of William’s decision to become a soldier, uncertain of violence. His mayoral platform was founded on safety and security for all. Damien never had the stomach for blood or cruelty. That part of him never changed, and Wilford doubts it ever could.

But Wilford _has_ changed. He’s not so far gone that he doesn’t know that, at least not anymore. Back with Dark around to edge him away from the truth when he got too close, Wilford forgot who he used to be and became someone new. Someone damaged by trauma, someone unfettered by society, someone excited by chaos. Someone who forgot what death means, and even now, who cannot give death the gravity it deserves unless it’s happening to someone he loves. He waves his gun around like it’s harmless, jokes about past victims, still sometimes offers to find a new body for Dark to use when (if) (when) (if) (when, it has to be when) they put him back together.

Dark never grimaced when Wilford talked like that. Dark never flinched when Wilford waved his gun around. Dark took Wilford’s strangeness and violence in stride, grew to care about him, and showed that care in his own distant, quiet way. But Damien is not Dark. Damien flinches, eyes on Wilford’s gun whenever it’s out. Damien grimaces and shudders at Wilford’s careless comments and threats against others. Damien, more and more often, looks at Wilford like he’s a stranger. He becomes as distant and quiet as Dark was, but without the unspoken love behind it.

Maybe Wilford should’ve guessed that this would happen. But the only thing that hurts more than losing his best friend is losing him twice, and it’s a hurt that Wilford can do nothing about. He is who he is now. He cannot change it. Damien is much the same. Wilford skipped ahead in the book that Damien took too long to read, and how he and Damien will never be on the same page again. But Wilford still loves Damien, in the same aching, sad way he loves Dark right now. His two greatest friends, both out of reach, both feeling further and further away with every passing moment.

Wilford constantly finds himself standing by Celine’s hospital bed, looking at her, wondering if it’s better that she’s comatose, because this way he can’t ever lose her.

Wilford, normally so thoughtlessly unflappable and optimistically impulsive, more and more often finds himself not knowing what to do or say.

~~~

Yandere is waiting to wake up from this nightmare.

After that awful meeting, after the reveal of that terrible betrayal, he’s kept himself in his room, away from the others.

He hates to be alone, but what more can he do? Wilford is busy trying to prepare the group for Anti (and the thought of seeing him again fills Yandere with equal parts bloodlust and terror). Chrome is working around the clock with his brothers to monitor the city and find Anti before he finds Ego Inc. Yancy has tried to comfort Yandere, but he’s just as terrified as everyone else, and he seems to recognize that he isn’t much help to Yandere and thus leaves him be. And god knows that if Dr. Iplier ever knocks on Yandere’s door, Yandere won’t let him in.

It’s still so hard to wrap his head around. That Dr. Iplier, the man who’s stitched Yandere up and dried his tears more times than Yandere can count, the man who was never annoyed by the reassurance Yandere needed or embarrassed to tell Yandere how much he loves him, the man who Yandere called “Dad”…that man is the man who killed Dark so Anti could steal his power.

The man who killed Dark, Yandere’s senpai, his soulmate, the love of his life, the one person he cannot live without.

Maybe Yandere understands, deep down, Dr. Iplier’s fervent desire to protect the one he loves. That overpowering, all-encompassing need to save what matters most. The paralyzing fear of losing someone so important, the drive to go to the ends of the earth or to do horrible things to keep that person safe. Maybe Yandere recognizes and can even relate to the idea of dooming the world and everyone in it to save that one special person.

But Dark was _his_ special person.

There’s a hole inside Yandere without him. There’s a piece of Yandere missing, a chunk of muscle and bone gone from his being and leaving only a hollow, aching agony. It’s the kind of pain a person can’t just grit their teeth and bear, one that never lessens in intensity, one that sometimes hurts enough to steal one’s breath and other times hurts even worse. Yandere feels like he’s dying. Sometimes he wishes he was.

He has to believe that they’ll get Dark back. But he can’t help but fear that they can’t. What if Dark can never be remade? What if they remake him, but he has no memory of his past? What if his personality changes drastically? As long as Dark is alive at all, Yandere will try to be with him like he was before, but what if it’s not like it was before? Could Yandere go back to the time before they got together, when he watched Dark from afar, flirted when he felt brave enough, bent over backwards to be noticed? Yandere would do it a hundred times if he had to, but it wasn’t easy. He’d wondered, sometimes, if the other egos were right, if Dark just wasn’t capable of love. That even if Dark could love, if he could ever love someone like Yandere. Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes it felt hopeless.

Yandere remembers Dark’s point of view on it, what he told him after they’d been together for some time, and Yandere had gotten curious. He remembers Dark telling him how love had come on slowly, and by the time he knew it was there it was big enough to blindside him. Dark had a learning curve to being in love, it didn’t come naturally to him at first. Yandere always ran hot, Dark ran cold, and sometimes Yandere felt frozen. But much like his slow realization to his own feelings, Dark soon realized that he needed to treat Yandere differently. Other than when Dark confessed his feelings, the best Yandere ever felt was when he noticed that Dark was making an effort to love him back properly.

Yandere would do it all again if he had to. But he hopes, he hopes so much that he doesn’t have to. Worse still would be losing Dark forever, finding out that he can’t be brought back. It makes Yandere hurt all the more knowing he never got to say goodbye. He can’t rightly recall what he last said to Dark, either; his memories from the time Anti was conditioning him are scrambled and, now that over a month has passed, distant. And to think that Dark died not knowing where Yandere was or if he was even alive, after getting himself hurt in his search for him…it’s enough to make Yandere want to curl up into a ball and stop existing himself.

He won’t, though. He won’t go that far just yet. Not while there’s still a chance Dark could come back. But he wasn’t lying to Dr. Iplier before: Yandere refuses to live in a world without Dark. He already knows what he’d do: Sneak away from the others, go back to his room, lock himself in, and use his katana one last time. It’d be improper seppuku; historically, there was often a _kaishakunin,_ one’s “second,” who would perform _kaishaku,_ partial decapitation. It can be done without a kaishakunin, but it’s much harder, and Yandere isn’t sure if he has the skill for it. If he could, he’d chose Chrome as his kaishakunin: He’s the only one Yandere trusts who could properly execute kaishaku. But Yandere isn’t stupid, he knows Chrome would never agree to it, and he’d only try to stop Yandere from committing seppuku at all if he knew. So an improper seppuku it would have to be, and perhaps if the universe is kind, there will be an afterlife Yandere can join Dark in.

For now, though, he must endure. He must bear the hole in his being in case Dark can be brought back. But it’s the hardest thing Yandere has ever done, and it only gets harder with every passing hour. He _misses_ Dark. He misses him so fucking much, more than he ever thought he could miss anyone or anything. Yandere’s seen Dark die twice before, but at least he had a body to mourn over and assurances from others that Dark would wake up soon. At least those assurances had proven right, and after some agonizing days Dark was alive to hold Yandere again. But there’s no assurances now, no amount of certainty, no body, nothing. It’s already been so long since Yandere last saw Dark, and he’s terrified of forgetting what he looked like or sounded like, terrified that the nights spent tracing Dark’s features as they laid together and committing them to memory will evaporate when too much time passes.

Yandere cannot bear it.

But he must.

It would be easier if he could still trust Dr. Iplier. But how can he? This is Dr. Iplier’s fault. It’s Anti’s fault, first and foremost, but it’s Dr. Iplier’s fault, too. Yandere would gladly have died to be able to wake up to Dark at his side again. He would gladly have died and stayed dead if it allowed Dark to live.

It’s too hard to think about, but Yandere can’t think of anything else.

Yandere whimpers, curls into his pillow. He hasn’t gotten out of bed today. He didn’t get out of bed the day before, either. Yancy came by to give him food, left, and came back again with Chrome when Yandere refused to eat. He expects that one of them will come again today and force him to eat once more. So when he hears the knock on his door, he figures it must be one of them.

“Who is it?” he asks anyway, voice tired and hoarse from crying. He’s cried a lot since he woke from his coma. It’s enough to make him wish he’d stayed unconscious.

“It’s Damien. I…I brought you lunch. Wilford asked that I make sure you eat.”

Hearing Damien’s voice startles Yandere so much that he sits straight up – and almost lays right back down, dizzy with headrush. He feels a bit of warmth, though, knowing that for how busy Wilford’s been lately, he still cares enough about Yandere to send someone to feed him. The fact that that someone is Damien is strange, but not bad. Yandere hasn’t hated Damien since the day he found out Dark died. Now that the initial crushing emotion has receded, Yandere knows that blaming him was silly, and he blames him no longer. And Yandere can’t help but wonder just how much Damien remembers of Dark’s love for Yandere.

“Come in,” Yandere says, still sitting up. He must be a sight; two days’ worth of bedhead, wrinkled pajamas, and red-rimmed, sunken eyes.

Damien opens the door, and for a moment he looks so much like Dark that Yandere’s heart clenches in pain. But no, the differences become clearer with every second Yandere looks at him: His longer hair, his fuller stubble, the color of his eyes, the absence of gray in his skin, the way he walks into the room without the strain Dark always walked with, without the effort of forcing dead bones to move. The expression on his face is also one Dark never wore: Deep and obvious anxiety, worry, maybe a little fear.

“I’m not gonna stab you,” Yandere grumbles.

“I know,” Damien says immediately. Another difference: He can’t lie as well as Dark can. Yandere sighs, too exhausted to roll his eyes.

“For a politician, you’re a shitty liar.”

“Forgive me if I’m not up to form,” Damien replies wryly, with a touch of bitterness that doesn’t suit him. Yandere thinks he’s struck a nerve, and feels a little bad about it.

He stays quiet as Damien walks over with a paper bag. When he gets close, Yandere can tell the bag is takeout from the Japanese restaurant not far from Ego Inc. Wilford probably ordered it for delivery, since he forbade anyone from leaving the building. Yandere takes the bag from Damien, already knowing his favorite foods are in it. His eyes tear up a little at Wilford’s thoughtfulness.

“Thanks,” he says, quiet, trying not to sniffle.

“Of course.”

There’s a long pause.

“I apologize, but Wilford told me to…watch you eat. To make sure you won’t just put it to the side and not touch it.” Damien cheeks are a little pink.

“Oh, yeah.” Yandere’s cheeks turn pink too as he opens the bag.

He’d normally be excited to eat it, but he can’t muster up any emotion as he pulls out a container of sushi and snaps a pair of chopsticks apart. The first bite tastes good, and so does the next, but there’s no satisfaction to it. He’s not even truly hungry. But he knows that if Damien can’t make Yandere eat, he’ll probably get Wilford to come in, and Yandere doesn’t want to put more worries on him than he already has. Wilford no doubt misses Dark, too, no doubt he’s struggling, too.

Yandere’s eyes tear up again. He feels a bit like Chihiro in “Spirited Away” when she forced herself to eat through tears, mourning what she’d lost, craving that more than her empty stomach craved food. Yandere doesn’t realize he’s crying himself until a teardrop lands on the spicy tuna roll he’s about to pick up. It opens the floodgates, and Yandere pushes the food onto his nightstand and buries his face in his hands to weep.

“Oh, no,” Damien murmurs, “Don’t cry Yandere, please don’t cry…”

Yandere can feel his hands hovering in the air around him, wanting to offer physical comfort but not sure if he should. Yandere leans forward into Damien’s chest, unable to stop crying long enough to give Damien verbal permission. Damien jolts a little, but doesn’t back away. He tentatively wraps his arms around Yandere and sits on the edge of his bed, hands resting on Yandere’s shaking back.

“I’m sorry,” Damien whispers, “I can’t imagine how this feels for you. I’m not Dark, but…” He pauses, as though wondering if he might be overstepping. “But if it gives you any comfort, I remember how much he loved you.”

Yandere lets out a particularly awful sob, and hunches further into Damien’s chest. But for once it’s a good kind of pain, a sweet kind of agony. Damien seems to understand, and continues.

“He almost tore himself apart searching for you at Anti’s hideout,” Damien tells him. “It was the closest he’d ever come to splitting, I could feel it happening. The only reason he didn’t was because Wilford snapped him out of it. He didn’t do that again while looking for you, but he had the same intensity. He was deeply worried about you, he feared that whoever had taken you might kill you, or had killed you already. He felt guilty for not realizing that something was wrong on the night you went missing. He felt as though he should’ve prevented it. He felt…well, I suppose he felt similar to how you feel now. He never cried, but sometimes…sometimes he wanted to.” Damien gives Yandere a squeeze. “He loved you, very much. He would’ve destroyed the world for you.”

Yandere bawls harder even as Damien’s words fill the hole in his chest with love. He hadn’t known how much he’d needed to hear that Dark missed him. To think that Dark suffered anything close to what Yandere suffers now is painful, but it makes a part of Yandere feel warm, to know how much Dark loved him.

Damien isn’t Dark. He feels a lot like Dark, though, in the shape of his chest, the way his arms hold Yandere. Yandere can pretend the body heat coming from Damien is his own. He can pretend that Damien’s heartbeat under his ear is the distant rattle of his room’s air conditioner. He can pretend that he can’t hear the sound of Damien breathing under his own wails.

So Yandere pretends that Dark is holding him, pretends that Dark is rubbing his back, pretends, just for a little while, that Dark is soothing his tears.

~~~

Dr. Iplier understands why he’s being avoided. He understands why the others don’t trust him right now. He understands why, to his knowledge, they’ve been going to Plus for medical help instead of himself.

He understands all of this, but that doesn’t make him feel any better.

This is why Dr. Iplier held back the truth for so long. He knew it would make him a pariah, he knew it would shatter the egos’ faith in him. He knew it would hurt them, especially Wilford, and especially, _especially_ Yandere.

Yandere’s punch didn’t break Dr. Iplier’s jaw. It knocked out a tooth and bruised his cheek, but not much else. It heals quickly, the tooth begins to grow back. He’s a figment, after all: He heals faster than humans, heals more completely than humans. But Dr. Iplier still can’t forget how it felt to be punched by his own son, he still can’t forget the rage and betrayal and deep despair he saw in his son’s eyes.

_“Can I even call him that right now?”_ he can’t help but wonder. _“He told me not to say it. Does he even still think of me as his father?”_

Dr. Iplier’s throat closes to think of it, to think that Yandere’s disowned him for this. But why wouldn’t he? Dark is his whole world, and Dr. Iplier took him away. But Dr. Iplier dares not talk to Yandere right now, especially not about this. He knows Yandere’s been in his room since that meeting, and while it breaks his heart to leave him alone in his suffering, he knows that his presence is no comfort to Yandere now. He has to trust that Yandere’s other loved ones are taking care of him.

Besides, there’s someone else on Dr. Iplier’s mind, someone else whose trust and love he misses so deeply it hurts.

The Host.

Host has still been examining the paths of the future, Dr. Iplier knows that for a fact. But he doesn’t go to Dr. Iplier’s clinic for his heavily bleeding eyes at the end of each day. He goes to Plus instead, which Dr. Iplier knows because Plus comes into Dr. Iplier’s clinic each day to get supplies for him. Plus isn’t hateful to Dr. Iplier when they cross paths, but it’s obvious he disapproves of Dr. Iplier’s decision. As much as the Googles hated Dark, letting Anti steal his power is a much worse thing than Yandere dying to them. It’s easy for Plus to compartmentalize, it’s easy for Plus to look at the situation logically, view it in terms of potential life lost, potential harm caused, a trolley problem in real time. Dr. Iplier can’t help but bitterly wonder if Plus would be so certain about the right choice if one of his brothers had been in Anti’s clutches instead of Yandere. Either way, Plus is the one taking care of Host right now, Plus is the one Host is going to.

Dr. Iplier _misses_ him.

He and Host are no strangers to turmoil, whether it’s about the egos at large or between each other. Dr. Iplier was once young and naïve and stern, Host was once overconfident and manipulative and immature. They each made choices they couldn’t take back, each made decisions that changed everything. It’s the reason Host is, well, The Host. Dr. Iplier thought that if they could survive all that, if they could survive the sleepless nights and screaming matches and the transformation of The Author to The Host, then they could survive anything.

But in the wake of his confession, in the lonely days since that meeting, Dr. Iplier isn’t so sure.

He loves Host. He’s loved him for so long that he can’t ever imagine not loving him, he can’t imagine living without him. He can’t imagine not sleeping next to Host at night, not reading stories to him when he’s too tired to narrate, not kissing him, not holding him and not being held, not being The Host’s, and Host not being his. Dr. Iplier doesn’t want to lose him, he _can’t_ lose him to this. Yandere might hate Dr. Iplier for a long time, maybe even forever, and it’ll shatter Dr. Iplier’s heart but he’d survive it, he’d be able to go on, however sadly. But if Host hates him too, he’ll be ruined.

The only way to work towards fixing this is to talk to Host. Dr. Iplier is afraid, but he doesn’t want to be a coward again, and he doesn’t want to lose Host. So early one morning, hopefully before Host gets too deep into his visions, Dr. Iplier forces himself to the library and walks in before he can change his mind.

He doesn’t find Host right away, but that’s not unusual. Host is probably deep in the library, needing the solitude and security before losing himself in the future. Dr. Iplier walks through, internally marveling at how the place looks just as it did before this mess began. How if nothing else, the library is still standing, still the same as it ever was. Dr. Iplier doesn’t let himself get caught up in it, though, continuing his path between the bookshelves.

Finally, he makes it to the enclave at the center, where Host paces. There’s sheets of paper in his hands (probably notes made with his braille typewriter), and he mutters over them (not narrates, Dr. Iplier can tell the difference) as he walks. After some moments, Host sighs to himself and strides to his typewriter, putting the papers down and typing something, clacking and loud in the near-silence of the room. He doesn’t even bother sitting down as his fingers move over the keys. Dr. Iplier reasons he must be preparing to go through the future again, must be making note of common themes and different paths, reminding himself of things to focus on and draw from. Dr. Iplier doesn’t know much about how Host keeps track of the future – no one does – but he knows he relies at least partially on notes. If Dr. Iplier’s going to interrupt him, he’d better do it now.

“Host?” he says cautiously, cringing at how loud his voice sounds in the quiet library. Host stops typing and lifts his head, but doesn’t turn to Dr. Iplier. His expression melts from mild, hurried frustration to something unreadable.

“Doctor.”

His voice is unreadable, too.

“I wanted to…” Dr. Iplier shivers. The library suddenly feels unwelcoming. “I wanted to apologize, f-for keeping everything from you.” He looks down. “I know I should’ve told you, but I was too afraid. I was afraid of how you’d react, how you’d feel, and then…” He can’t see the pattern on the carpet through his tears. “I could never find the right moment. And the longer I waited the harder it got. I’m sorry, Host, I’m so sorry.”

A long moment passes in silence. Dr. Iplier forces himself to look up, but Host is still staring straight ahead of himself, past his typewriter and into the library.

“We’re used to secrets, aren’t we?” he asks slowly. “We’re used to hiding things from each other. We never did outgrow that, neither of us.” His hands leave the typewriter to grip the edge of the table, betraying his nerves. “I hid the people I brought home when you weren’t there. You hid your desire to join Dark at Ego Inc. as I railed against him. After all these years, we cannot stop lying.”

“This…what do you mean?” Dr. Iplier asks. “Since when have you lied recently? I’m the one who–”

“You believed I would notice your lie.” Host cuts him off. His voice is still quiet and monotone. “You had feared but also hoped, deep down, that I would call you out for your suspicious behavior and you would be forced to reveal the truth.”

“Y…Yes…”

“I lied, too.” Host’s hands shake, his knuckles are white. “I knew something was going on with you. The others thought you were just afraid for Yandere, and I did too, at first. But I know how you are when you’re worried. You were much more erratic, I could sense the paranoia in you. I knew you were hiding something. I knew that with a sentence or two, with a drop of my power, I could find out what you were keeping from me.”

“Why didn’t you?” Dr. Iplier can’t help but ask.

“I believed there was a reason you didn’t wish to tell me. Hindsight has proven that right. I suppose I do not regret allowing you to keep your secret during the time Yandere was missing; had I uncovered it, the results would have been disastrous. But…” Host sighs. “When Yandere was returned, when Dark was killed…I knew I was right about you. I knew you had a secret about it, about everything.”

“I wanted you to figure it out,” Dr. Iplier whispers, tears starting to fall, “I wanted you to call me out for my lie. I was too afraid to admit it myself but I wanted you to know.”

“I’m not a mind-reader – at least, not all the time.” Host smiles, bitter. “I could sense your fear of discovery beneath everything else. I suppose I felt that you’d tell me what was going on if you truly believed it to be so important. But then again, I knew my visions were being blocked. I didn’t want to believe you were the cause.” He finally looks at Dr. Iplier, still smiling, less bitter than sad. “You’ve made a fool of me, Edward, and I’ve made a fool of myself.”

Dr. Iplier starts to cry in earnest. He can’t take the look on Host’s face, can’t take the pity in his voice, pity for them both.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Iplier sobs, “I love you, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.” Host is unreadable again.

“I d-don’t know what else to say.” Dr. Iplier covers his face.

That’s always been Dr. Iplier’s phrase: “I’m sorry, you’re dying.” “I’m sorry,” “I’m sorry,” all he can ever be is sorry. Sorry for every bad decision, and helpless to fix it if it’s not a symptom or a scar.

Both are quiet for a while, aside from Dr. Iplier’s sobs. The space between them looms.

“I was not exaggerating before.” Host finally speaks, quiet and severe. “The futures ahead of us are grim. There’s a good chance one or more of us will die. Someone may die and never come back. Even victory against Anti is not guaranteed.” He runs a hand through his slicked-back hair, tired and worn. “There are futures where we lose. Futures where we cannot get Dark or his aura back, futures where Anti takes some of us as puppets and kills the rest.”

“What happens after that?” Dr. Iplier asks, appalled.

“I haven’t seen that far. I don’t need to, and frankly, I don’t wish to.” Host shudders. “Whatever happens, there will be suffering and blood.” He stares at Dr. Iplier, like he’s seeing his very soul. “We’re suffering right now. Everyone in this building is in pain, some more than others. You are in pain too, my doctor, murder and deceit are weighing on you. My own deceit is weighing on me. The others do not trust you, and they ought not to trust me, either. But they do. And they trust Wilford, when they did not trust him before, and had good reasons not to.” Host shakes his head. “What is trust to us now? What is honesty? What is protection? What does it mean to believe that a person will do right by you? Is it enough that they try? Or must they succeed? And what is success? I cannot answer, and neither can anyone else, though they seem to think that they can.” Host takes a step, shrinking the space between him and Dr. Iplier just a little. “All I can say is that, despite everything, I…” He takes another step, and something raw enters his expression, his voice. “I do love you, Edward, and I don’t want to lose you, not like this. I don’t want this to be the thing that ruins us.”

Dr. Iplier cries harder, covering his face again, trying to wipe the tears away. It’s the pain of forgiveness, the agony that only the truest of love can bring.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Iplier sobs again as Host approaches him, closing the physical rift between them. Host takes Dr. Iplier’s hands, pulling them away from his face. Dr. Iplier sees Host through tears, sees that Host is crying, too. Tears of true, clear water sneak out from under his bandages. Dr. Iplier can’t remember the last time Host has cried like that.

“Stop saying sorry,” Host tells him, and then kisses him, deep and rough and longing, and Dr. Iplier returns it in kind.

They don’t even make it to Host’s room; Host pins Dr. Iplier against the wall, hands on his waist holding him up, and Dr. Iplier’s legs wrap around Host’s waist in turn. It’s not like the last time they did this; it’s rough and harsh and messy. Host growls and bites like a wild thing, thrusts so hard that Dr. Iplier’s back keeps slamming the wall, jolting his spine every time. Host’s watery tears give way to the usual bloody stream, and it gets all over both of them. Dr. Iplier can only hold on and cry and gasp Host’s name, over and over.

“Isaac, I love you, I love you,” Dr. Iplier nearly wails.

“And I love you, Edward,” Host answers, panting, before kissing him in a way that’s almost gentle. “More than anything or anyone, no matter what we do to each other.”

When it’s over, Dr. Iplier can hardly stand, and Host seems to feel the same.

“Wilford will have to wait a while for my visions,” Host says, a wavering in his voice that suggests he’s lost a little too much blood.

Dr. Iplier lets out a small, breathless laugh. He can’t do much else.

They clean up and stay together in Host’s room for a while. They don’t have sex again, but they lay beside each other in Host’s bed, half-dressed. Though Host is meant to be resting, he can’t stop himself from touching Dr. Iplier, from stroking his broken skin and bruised back. Dr. Iplier can’t hold back his own hands, either, combing through Host’s mussed-up hair with one and letting the other rest on his chest. They’re close enough for their foreheads to touch, and they let them. They don’t speak, but they don’t need to. After something so rough, they need the gentleness, the quiet, the peace.

Dr. Iplier suspects it’s the last peace they’ll get for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Doc, you have no idea... ;3
> 
> And with that, I must admit that I haven't actually started writing Chapter 13 yet ;;;w;;; So I'll post it when I can, but it'll almost definitely take longer than a week. Sorry in advance, pls forgive ;u;


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anti invades Ego Inc. with a host of puppets to continue his reign of destruction. What little warning the egos receive beforehand may not be enough.  
> Warnings: Major character death, blood, gore, body horror, intense grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm alive, and yes, I'm still invested in writing this fic XD I'm sorry it took so long, quarantine really sapped my writing mojo :'c
> 
> But hopefully this very eventful and VERY long chapter will make up for the wait! The warnings are no joke y'all, this is where shit hits the fan. Again ;w;"
> 
> Enjoy...?

The first warning the egos get, the one that they know will be the last before Anti strikes, is an urgent message sent to the control room from another figment. No one but a figment could ever find Ego Inc. in the first place, and no one but a particularly intelligent figment could ever break through Ego Inc.’s firewalls to send a message.

Wilford is so angry to find out about the security breach – not the first one in recent memory, of course – that he nearly shoots Google until Google tells him what the message actually is: A transmission from none other than Professor Beauregard, straight from her laboratory. Wilford and the Googles watch the message before calling a meeting to share it with the others.

So Dr. Iplier finds himself sitting in a room filled with an all-too-familiar dread, surrounded by people who don’t trust him nearly as much as they did before. The Host is sitting beside him as has become typical, but the other egos are giving him as wide a berth as possible. Though there aren’t enough chairs at the table to fit every ego, the chair beside Dr. Iplier that Host isn’t in remains empty as the room fills with people. Yandere in particular is sitting as far away as he can, beside Damien of all people. Dr. Iplier still hasn’t spoken to Yandere after everything, and considering the glare Yandere shoots him, it’s probably a good thing that Dr. Iplier’s left him alone. He seems to be well-healed physically, at least, and Dr. Iplier is glad for it. It’s one of precious few things he has to be glad for right now.

This time there is no intro; the meeting alert had all the pertinent information. Once the room is full of egos, Wilford merely nods to Google, and the room’s TV flickers to life and reveals Professor Beauregrad, up close and clearly fiddling with the camera she’s filming herself with.

“It’s on? It’s on!” she says, “Okay.” She clears her throat and settles into a chair she’s placed a few feet away. She looks right into the camera. “I’ll keep this short. Anti is here in LA, and he’s on his way to Ego Inc. I’ve done the calculations, and though Anti is quite unpredictable, I’m nearly 97% certain that he will go after you all once he’s added the most powerful figments in the area to his…arsenal, I suppose one could call it. I’ve had other egos reach out to me about what’s happening, and it appears Anti is gathering an army of puppets. He already has all the Septics, and he definitely has more. He wants the most powerful players to destroy you with, and he’s gotten them.” Her speech is broken by a sudden loud bang, and she jumps before resuming. “Ugh, of course. Anyway, the rest of us are either too weak or too few to stop him. It’s going to have to be you.” Another series of bangs occurs, and Beauregard gets up and walks off-camera briefly, returning with a futuristic gun nearly as big as she is. She sets it on her lap as she sits, keeping one hand on the trigger. “I’ll do my best here, and I might be able to take down a couple people, but definitely not Anti.” She shakes her head. “How the hell did this happen, anyway? The stories I’ve heard…they seem impossible, but they have to be true. Sometimes science is believing what you can’t see.” A purple haze rises in the air, and Beauregard swears to herself, reaching to her left and grabbing something off a desk. She brings a gas mask into view, pulling it over her head and quickly tightening the straps. After a few cautious breaths, she returns her focus to the camera. “I hope you can still hear me. You can see Anti has Natemare, at least.” The lights flicker, and the sound of several different people laughing discordantly fills the air. “I’m sorry I’m not more helpful. At the very least, I doubt you’ll see me when Anti shows up. Other than my gadgets, I don’t have much he’d want.” Static stripes over the screen, and Beauregard sighs, eyes steely. “Of course, this message won’t even go through unless Anti wants it to. But I think he’ll let it, knowing him. He does love an audience. Just…stop him. Kill him. And, I hate to say it, but don’t be afraid to kill his puppets. Once Anti has all us figments in his hand…I can’t begin to calculate the damage he’d do to humanity. He absolutely cannot get that far, even if some of our own have to die.” Static clouds the screen over once again, so thick Beauregard can hardly be seen, and the audio becomes fuzzy. The egos can only barely see a figure appear behind Beauregard’s chair, only just make out black tendrils beginning to swarm her body. It’s the last frame they get before the footage is only static for several long moments. A voice is heard; a familiar, scratchy tone.

“Twenty-four hours. Be ready, Ipliers.”

A cackling, strangely echoing laugh, then silence.

The egos are silent in their horror. Dr. Iplier looks at Host, sees his downturned brow and tight jaw. Dr. Iplier can’t help but look at Yandere, too, and is alarmed to see Yandere staring intently at the screen. Damien notices too, and taps Yandere’s shoulder, concerned. Yandere shakes his head, as though snapping himself out of something, and looks back at Damien in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring. This all happens to the ignorance of the other egos, who are still processing what they’ve just seen. Wilford is angry but calm, and when he speaks, his tone reflects it.

“That’s our warning. I’m willing to bet Anti’ll be showing up here tomorrow right when he said he will. He likes a challenge too much to sneak up on us. That means we need to figure out how to defeat him, and who will be fighting him, in less than twenty-four hours.” Wilford sits up a little straighter. “I’ll be a part of it, obviously. I might have a shot of pulling Dark’s aura away from Anti, but if Anti’s got an army, I need one, too.” He looks at Host, then Bim. “I expect help from the other two reality-benders in the room, at the very least.”

Host and Bim both nod. Dr. Iplier squeezes Host’s hand under the table. He can’t help but fear what could happen to Host in a fight like this, what Anti might do to him. But Host has no fear, and he squeezes Dr. Iplier’s hand back without looking in his direction. He’s clearly ready for a fight, and Dr. Iplier supposes that’s better than the alternative.

“Google,” Wilford continues, looking towards the android, “What about you? Other than me and Host and Bim, you’re the heaviest hitter we’ve got.”

“That is correct,” Google agrees, but he doesn’t get any further than that before his extensions jump in.

“But Google joining the battle would be unwise,” Plus interjects.

“If Anti is so much stronger than before, he could easily get into Google’s system,” Chrome points out.

“He could get hurt or killed,” Oliver insists, “Or Anti could make him hurt or kill somebody else!”

“Anti will not be the only combatant,” Google says, terse, turning in his seat to address the triplets. “I will focus my attention on someone who cannot possess me, and Anti will be preoccupied by, in all likelihood, Wilford.”

“He knows your command words,” Chrome snaps, “He’d have no problems with taking advantage of them if he had the need, or even the want.”

“I can alter my audio settings to block him out,” Google retorts, “Or mute my audio feed altogether if necessary. I do not need sound to fight.”

“Well, if you’re fighting, then we should too!” Oliver shouts.

Google blinks.

“That does not lower the risk,” Google deadpans. “If anything, it increases it.”

“We’re as strong as you are,” Plus says, standing straighter, “If Anti has an army, we need all the muscle we can get.”

“And like hell you’re doing this without us,” Chrome mutters.

Google stares at his brothers, and they stare back. For several long moments they don’t speak, but Dr. Iplier guesses they’re using their internal communication network to hash out their argument. All four androids are equally stubborn, and in the end, numbers win out, because eventually Google sighs and turns away from his brothers, looking at Wilford again.

“All four of us will be fighting,” Google states, clearly still annoyed. The triplets visibly relax.

“Alright,” Wilford nods, pleased. “I think that should be–”

“Me too!” yells a new voice.

Yandere.

The whole table whips around to gape at him, Dr. Iplier included. He should’ve expected this, he _knows_ he should’ve, but it’s blindsided him all the same. After all the torment, all the sleepless nights and paranoia and isolation and fear and lies, after watching Yandere be tortured and getting him back after a month apart only to break his heart, Dr. Iplier can’t let Yandere get in danger again. He can feel his heart start pounding faster. He can’t let Anti hurt his boy, not again.

“What?” Wilford sputters. “Yanny, I know you’re tough, but–”

“I’m fighting too!” Yandere shouts, eyes blazing with determination and fiery anger. “I’m strong, I’m fully healed, and I know how to fight! You need more fighters, so let me fight, too!”

 _“Absolutely not!!”_ Dr. Iplier yells, standing from his seat. The other egos start to murmur, but Dr. Iplier ignores them. “If you think you’re going to fight Anti after he already spent a month torturing you, you are sorely mistaken!”

“You’re not the fucking boss of me!” Yandere screams back, jumping out of his own seat. “I can fight if I want to, and I _want_ to!” Yandere’s eyes flash. “I want to make Guritchi _pay_ for what he did to me, and to Yami!!”

“That’s exactly why you _can’t_ fight,” Dr. Iplier says, voice low and authoritative, “You’re too emotionally invested to fight strategically, and Anti _will_ take advantage of that.”

Before, that tone was enough to make Yandere cower. But now, Yandere only seems to get even more fired up.

“And whose fault is _that?”_ Yandere spits, “Besides, didn’t _someone_ make Guritchi promise not to hurt me in return for Yami’s fucking aura??”

“He promised not to _kill_ you,” Dr. Iplier reminds him, “And that was only for when he had you in his cabin. You really think he’d leave you alone now?”

“Did _you_ think he would when you had him make that promise?” Yandere bites back.

Dr. Iplier has no good answer. He closes his mouth, ashamed.

“Wil,” Yandere begs, turning away from Dr. Iplier to look at Wilford, “Let me join, please. I have to do this.”

Wilford frowns and considers. Dr. Iplier looks at him too, silently begging for him to refuse Yandere. But Wilford has always been overindulgent of Yandere, always spoiled him and given him his way, and Dr. Iplier fears he’ll do that again. Sure enough, Wilford eventually sighs, relenting.

“Fine,” he says, “You can fight, but you better keep your head, got it?”

Yandere nods, and Dr. Iplier sighs shakily. Both sit down, and Yandere refuses to meet Dr. Iplier’s eyes. Dr. Iplier leans against Host, emotionally exhausted.

“Do we need anymore?” Wilford asks no one in particular, “I always say the more the merrier, but…”

“This is a good amount,” Host pipes up, “Any more participants risks the fight becoming too hectic. We must also consider where the egos who cannot fight will stay. If they are out in the open or near the fight, they will surely be killed.” Host represses a shudder; Dr. Iplier can just barely feel it. “The Host has seen it happen.”

“They’ll have to hide somewhere,” Bim murmurs thoughtfully, “But where?”

“…Perhaps in the clinic?” offers Damien. “Celine is already there, and if any of us are hurt, we’ll be right there.”

It’s an effort to speak up again, but Dr. Iplier makes it.

“That won’t work,” he says, unable to put any energy in his voice, “There’s no area or room big enough to hold everyone, and if any of Anti’s puppets follow you in, they could end up destroying medical supplies or breaking equipment. We’ll definitely need those after this fight.”

The egos consider.

“Wilford’s studio,” Oliver suggests, “It’s pretty big, and if all the filming stuff is put away somewhere else, it’ll be pretty empty, too. Celine can be moved in there easily, since it’s on the same floor as the clinic.”

“That works,” Wilford agrees, “But Doc, what was that about…about a puppet following them?”

The egos look at Dr. Iplier, wary but not hostile.

“There’s a chance Anti might send a puppet or two after the others,” Dr. Iplier explains, “If his goal is to take the powerful ones and kill the weaker ones, and he’s gotten so much stronger, then…I don’t see why he’d wait until he’d already done the former to do the latter.”

The other egos switch their gaze to Host, searching for confirmation. Even without sight, Host can perceive their stares.

“That is a possibility,” he confirms. “The Host has seen that happen as well.”

Another pause, a bit longer this time. No one wants to imagine the weaker egos getting slaughtered, least of all those egos.

“Someone’s gonna have to protect them,” Wilford muses.

A third pause. Bing of all people is the one to break the silence.

“Well, if I’m not gonna be fighting, like, actively,” Bing says, “I could be the one to watch out for us, right?”

“You? Please,” Google scoffs.

“I’m as tough as you are!” Bing huffs. “We’re both super-strong androids, aren’t we? If you can fight then I can protect the others!”

“Me too,” Silver Shepherd pipes up, voice quiet but steady. “I’m strong, I know how to fight, and…protecting people is what I do.” He looks at Bing. “The two of us can keep the others safe.”

Wilford seems skeptical.

“Me too, aye?” Captain Magnum suddenly says. Illinois and Yancy, who are standing beside him, give him incredulous looks. “If ye haven’t noticed, I’ve got quite a bit of meat on me bones, and some hardiness from me years on the sea. Oh, and this beauty.” He unholsters a heavy, mean-looking flintlock pistol. The other egos can’t help but stare.

“Hell no!” Wilford shouts, “You’re way too young of an ego, it’s too risky!” Magnum frowns and sadly puts away his pistol as Wilford thinks for a moment and sighs. “Silver and Bing are really all I’ve got, huh? Alright, fine.”

“Wow, thanks for, like, the vote of confidence, bossman,” Bing gripes. Silver doesn’t speak, but looks resigned.

“What happens if someone gets hurt?” Bim brings up. “If Anti or one his puppets badly hurts someone, and it can’t wait until the fight is over? Dr. Iplier would have to help them, but he can’t be in two places at once.”

“Well…” Dr. Iplier begins, thinking out loud, “Wilford is the only one of us who can teleport. So if someone got hurt and I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be able to get there anytime quickly without him. Meaning that it would make the most sense for me to be where he is.”

Yandere scoffs. Wilford also seems doubtful, but Dr. Iplier meets his gaze evenly.

“Couldn’t you just as easily stay with the others?” Wilford asks, “If someone in the fight needs you, we could contact you and I’ll go get you.”

“That’s an extra step during which someone could be bleeding out,” Dr. Iplier replies, “And I’d imagine the most severe injuries would happen in the main fight. If the others needed me, Silver has his communicator, and he could contact me directly.”

Silver seems heartened by someone showing faith in him, and Wilford thinks for a long moment.

“Fair enough,” he says, “That means you’re with us, then. And we know how we’ll keep in contact, so that covers planning for the fight. As for the fight itself…”

“It is possible for us to take back Dark’s aura in this fight,” Host says, “But it will require The Host, Bim, and Wilford working together. Anti will also need to be weakened before we can remove the aura from him, but not killed.”

“Not killed?” Wilford asks, disappointed.

“The reason why is unclear,” Host explains, “But The Host believes that the aura will cling much tighter to Anti if he is killed, the same way it has done to Dark when he has been killed in the past. The Host has seen futures in which we have killed Anti but been unable to retrieve Dark’s aura before he wakes.”

“We have The Cell,” Google points out, “Don’t we put him in there?”

“He always escapes,” Host says quietly, “And the futures resulting from that outcome are the worst of them all.”

Everyone is silent for many moments after that.

“Alright, I think this meeting is over,” Wilford sighs, “Host and Bim, stay here so we can talk more about strategy. Google, you and your brothers clear all the equipment out of my studio for tomorrow. Everyone else, just…get ready.”

For once, the meeting ends in silence. Everyone walks out of the room in a daze, like none of them can believe what’s happening. Dr. Iplier can hardly believe it either. Somehow it’s not the thought of being so close to the action that scares him, but the thought of those he loves being in the thick of it, of being in the most danger. He gets up to leave, and Host stays in his seat as Wilford ordered. Dr. Iplier leans down to kiss Host, and Host whispers a narration to meet his lips. There’s no need for anything else to be said. Dr. Iplier is one of the last to exit the meeting room, and instead of returning to his clinic to check on Celine or prepare a medical kit for tomorrow, he heads a few floors higher.

He knows Yandere won’t be happy to see him tomorrow. He knows better than to try to talk to Yandere right before the fight, to distract him even more than Yandere’s own rage will. But he has to speak to him. He can’t leave things unsaid between them, not before something so huge.

Still, it takes him nearly a minute to work up the courage to knock on Yandere’s door.

“Who is it?” Yandere asks, pleasant but not happy.

“It’s me, Yan,” Dr. Iplier says. He has to stop himself from calling Yandere “kid” or “love” or “son.” “Can you please let me in?”

“No,” Yandere responds immediately, “Go away.”

“Can we at least talk? Tomorrow’s going to be insane, to say the least, and I just–”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care.”

“All I want to say is that…is that I love you. No matter what happens, I love you. And I want you to be careful tomorrow. Please just let the reality-benders take care of Anti.”

A pause from the other side of the door. Dr. Iplier is beginning to wonder if Yandere has decided to ignore him when he finally speaks.

“You know that topaz necklace that Yami gave me for my first birthday?”

“Yes…What does–”

“Did you know I wear it? All the time? Under my shirt, usually, so it doesn’t get scratched or broken, but I always have it on during the day. Or if I’m gonna fight someone, I have a little case I put it in, and I can keep it there so it doesn’t get dirty. It’s got…” Yandere’s voice wobbles. “It’s got blood on it from…from when I was with Guritchi. I don’t know if he ever noticed my necklace, maybe he didn’t care, or he didn’t know what it means to me. He didn’t take it or try to break it. But it’s got blood on the chain now that still won’t come out.”

“Yan…” Dr. Iplier’s heart aches for his boy, for the hurt his little one’s gone through.

“While you were killing Yami, Guritchi was getting blood on the best present Yami ever gave me.” Yandere starts to whimper. “He ruined everything and you helped him. I’m never going to forgive you.”

Again, Dr. Iplier should’ve known. He should’ve expected this. But it still spears his heart right through with despair.

“I still love you,” he whispers, voice shaky, “I’m always going to love you. Please be safe tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Yandere’s tone is cold and angry.

Once again, there’s no need to say anything more. There’s nothing more for Dr. Iplier to say. He walks away from Yandere’s door with a heavy heart, returns to his clinic to check on Celine and make a med kit in a haze.

In the evening, Host comes in needing a bandage change. But Dr. Iplier suspects he would’ve come in regardless of his bandages. After Dr. Iplier does it, Host doesn’t say anything, just puts his arms around Dr. Iplier, holds him close. As much as Dr. Iplier needs it, as much as he melts into Host’s arms, he can tell by the way he’s being held that Host is seeking comfort, too.

“You scared, too?” he asks, quiet and sad.

“Yes,” Host admits, “There are so many ways tomorrow could go. I can’t tire myself searching for the most likely possibility so soon before the fight. For lack of a better phrase, I…I’m going in blind.”

If the situation were less dire and Dr. Iplier less upset, he’d chuckle a little. Instead, he huddles himself closer to Host, holds on tighter.

“I’m worried for you,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, “And I’m worried for Yandere, too. He’s so reckless, and he’s so full of anger right now, I just know he’s going to do something he shouldn’t.”

“What about you?” Host retorts, “You’re going to be right next to this fight. There are futures where you’re hurt.” He squeezes so tight it almost hurts. “There are futures where I lose you. Anti would love to kill the person who takes care of us all.”

“I’ll be careful,” Dr. Iplier replies, “As careful as I can be while still helping those who need it. And you and the others will be keeping Anti busy.”

There’s a long moment of silence that Host breaks.

“Someone will get hurt,” he says darkly, “At least one person will be badly hurt, and one of us may die, whether it’s someone fighting or one of the weaker egos. Even if we defeat Anti, we won’t come out unscathed. That is the only certainty.”

That chilling “if” makes Dr. Iplier’s blood run cold. He can think of nothing to say.

He and Host sleep together in Dr. Iplier’s bed that night, clinging to each other like they’ll never get another chance. Dr. Iplier keeps wanting to look at Host’s time of death, at those numbers over his head showing how long he has to live, but he’s too afraid. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Host’s time is short, if the numbers are red, if his fate is sealed and imminent.

Instead, despite having Host there beside him, Dr. Iplier falls into an uneasy, fitful sleep.

~~~

The next morning, a few hours before Anti’s twenty-four hour time limit is set to end, the weaker egos are ushered into the studio by Silver and Bing. The egos are a sea of scared faces, even the more stoic among them are clearly nervous about what’s to come. The only snag occurs when the Jims hug Bim goodbye and refuse to let him go, resulting in Silver and Bing each having to pry a Jim away and carry him off (and in Oliver having to console a now-distraught Bim). Plus helps Dr. Iplier move Celine onto a stretcher, but Damien insists on helping him transport Celine into the studio. He’s calmer than Dr. Iplier would’ve expected, but he’s still a shade paler than normal and his hands shake slightly. He hugs Wilford goodbye, and Wilford hugs back like he, too, doesn’t want to let go. Before long, Wilford is teleporting the group of fighters to the lobby of the building – a space that’s wide and high-ceilinged and big enough for a fight – to await Anti’s arrival.

Dr. Iplier looks around himself. He’s a bit behind the others, out of the line of fire, but he can see enough of them from where he is to know how everyone feels. The Googles stand together, all silent and stoic, even Oliver. Despite being physically identical, they’ve never looked as similar as they do now. Bim has recovered from his moment with the Jims, and his jaw is set, his hands already glow a soft purple. Yandere’s eyes are already blazing red and his fingers are twitching, ready to grab his katana and swing. Host is practically a statue, not even narrating as he stands, sightless gaze pointed ahead and one hand holding his baseball bat. Wilford is vibrating, just as angry as Yandere but as calm as everyone else, hands clenched in fists, ready to beat Anti into submission. As badly as Yandere wants to get his hands on Anti, Dr. Iplier can’t imagine anyone who wants to destroy Anti right now more than Wilford.

Finally, after forever and not long enough, Anti arrives. He teleports to the front of the lobby not in a glitch, but in a puff of smoke, and Dr. Iplier can immediately see the influence Dark’s aura has had on him.

Last time he saw Anti, the aura was coiling around him, interested but not yet integrated. Now, Anti is surrounded in the dark smoke, his skin greenish-gray, his glitches more measured, more controlled, slower, just like Dark’s were. Figments can feel power, and even being across the room from Anti makes Dr. Iplier want to flinch and hide. He’s as sharp-toothed as ever, though, just as long-clawed, just as arrogant and self-assured. He’s grinning like he’s already won, but he’s alone.

“Anti,” Wilford says, low and tense.

“Glad to see you brought the welcoming committee,” Anti teases, looking over the group. His eyebrows raise when his eyes fall on Yandere. “I’m surprised they let you come along, _gaki._ ”

Yandere’s cheeks turn red, and Dr. Iplier can see him puff up in anger like an angry cat. By some miracle, he refrains from charging at Anti, but trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

“If it’s just you…” Wilford drawls, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh no,” Anti laughs, “I just wanted to see what I’m working with here. You know, teleporting around is so much easier now! I can go wherever I’ve been, _and_ wherever Dark’s been! And I don’t need to go through technology to do it. I don’t know why Dark ever walked anywhere.” He poofs away for a long moment, and when he returns, he has company. “I think this should be good enough.”

Other egos, enough for a true battle. All the Septics are there, even Jackieboy Man, all of them with a slight gray tint to their skin, all of them with deep eye bags, all of them glaring and ready for a fight. Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks to see Henrik among them, scalpel in hand and glaring mercilessly. He looks over and sees Bim visibly disheartened at the sight of Marvin, and Host clenching his jaw tighter to see Jameson back under Anti’s control. But it’s not just the Septics Anti’s showed up with. Peevils is there, smirking almost like Anti is. MadPat’s burnt and scarred face is split in a wide grin, both hands holding his chainsaw – reinforced with a flamethrower attachment – aloft. Phantom and Natemare stand beside each other, Phantom’s scepter glowing with power and Natemare surrounded by his own purple smoke. Anti turns to him with a smile.

“Go find out where the other Ipliers are hiding,” he says, “Give them a little “hello” from me.” Natemare grins and vanishes in a puff of purple.

All the Ipliers are unnerved. If Natemare finds the other egos, his fear smoke will get in their heads, terrify them into submission, and maybe even make them turn on each other in fear. Not only that, but the smoke itself is toxic, and if anyone breathes it in for too long they’re as good as dead. The studio is a large room with high ceilings, but even that might not be enough to disperse the smoke. There’s not much time to ponder it, though, because Anti rolls his neck in an all-too-familiar gesture and beckons the egos forward.

“Who wants some?” he cackles gleefully.

No one wastes any time.

Wilford launches forward, straight for Anti. Anti merely flicks his wrist, a cue to Jackie that sends him barreling into Wilford, intercepting him. Yandere can’t contain himself anymore and charges with a scream. Anti doesn’t flinch, only sends Phantom after him. Yandere brings his katana down on Phantom’s scepter instead of Anti’s head. Bim and Host move forward, Anti sends Marvin and Jameson to meet them. Peevils rushes Google, spiky insect limbs springing from her sides, wings from her back, and mandibles from her mouth. Robbie lumbers for Chrome with a feral roar, MadPat giggles wildly and flings himself at Plus, swinging his chainsaw around. Finally, Chase and Henrik circle Oliver, Chase with his handgun and Henrik with his scalpel. Dr. Iplier runs to the back of the room, both to get out of harm’s way and to observe everyone at once, to keep an eye out for injuries.

Dr. Iplier can’t help but admit that Anti planned this out well. Each combatant is suited to their opponent, organized in just the right way to be the toughest fight. Jackie is the only Septic strong enough to block Wilford’s punches, and his ability to fly even gives him an advantage. Wilford and Jackie constantly pop in and out of reality as Wilford tries to use his void to disorient Jackie, but Jackie continues going after Wilford with single-minded drive to kill. Their fighting is brutal, heavy punches and fierce jabs. Wilford is still stronger but Jackie is quicker, and they tumble through the air, evenly matched.

Bim faces off Marvin with reluctance; the pair are normally friends, and Dr. Iplier has no doubt that Anti knows. They fling magic at each other, Bim’s bright purple against Marvin’s electric green, again and again. Bim doesn’t want to kill Marvin, but Marvin has no such qualms about killing Bim. When blasts do connect with flesh, they send one person tumbling over the floor, and the other rushing to deliver a second blow. But both spring up as fast as they’re knocked down, and their fight continues on.

It’s Host and Jameson’s fight that takes the most of Dr. Iplier’s attention, however. He’s too far away to hear what Host is saying, but he can see his mouth moving a mile a minute with narrations, matching Jameson’s curled fists with his own baseball bat every time. Jameson fights with a grin on his face, eyes glowing silver, pocket watch in hand. Several times Jameson goes to wind his pocket watch and Host cracks his bat down on Jameson’s hand to stop him. Dr. Iplier wonders how many times Jameson has reversed time during the fight, how many seconds he’s taken back for his own advantage. He wonders if Host knows. Both men fight like ghosts, weaving around each other, careful and searching for openings.

The Googles are still near each other as they fight, but each one has their own battle to focus on. Peevils is in her true, terrifying form. She flies above Google on iridescent wings, jabs at him with the long spiny limbs at her waist, grabs and pulls with her black tentacles, even threatens to bite down with her mandibles. Google shows no fear, meeting her tentacles and crushing them in his fists, barely flinching when he’s stabbed with her spines. Both of them are already bleeding, but neither seem to care. Robbie relentlessly bears down on Chrome, dragging his nails down his arms and chest and biting down whenever he gets close enough. Chrome hits back, punches and holds Robbie’s jaws away, but Robbie barely feels the blows. Dr. Iplier watches Chrome pull off Robbie’s arm only for the limb’s hand to claw three lines down Chrome’s cheek, distracting him enough for Robbie to grab his arm back and quickly reattach it before launching himself at Chrome yet again. Plus dodges swings from MadPat’s chainsaw, bends out of the way of each spurt of fire. MadPat tries to get closer, but Plus always edges away, to the back or to the side, careful not to get cornered. Neither seems able to land a single blow, both locked in stalemate until one of them eventually trips up, but Dr. Iplier can’t tell who will break first. He’d have thought that Oliver would have an easy time against Chase and Henrik, the only Septics without any special abilities or strength, but he finds he’s mistaken. Oliver is afraid to hurt them, but the pair of them are ready to kill. He dodges bullets from Chase’s gun and swipes of Henrik’s scalpel, and when he finally gets openings to fight back, they block his blows with surprising strength or jump away with surprising speed. If Oliver goes for one, the other provides distraction. So far, Oliver’s injuries are few and minor, but Chase and Henrik are unscathed.

Yandere and Phantom are a study in contrast as they spar against each other. Yandere has brute force and the downswing of his katana, and Phantom has magic and bursts of energy from his scepter. Though he’s not above using the sceptor to block Yandere’s blows or swing it at Yandere’s head while Yandere’s distracted by a magic blast. But Yandere is relentless and much faster than Phantom, dodging many of Phantom’s blows and landing plenty of his own. Both of them take punishing hits, but neither are ready to give up.

Presiding over it all is Anti. He doesn’t fight, merely watches his puppets do the work for him. He grins as he watches the carnage, the fights happening throughout the lobby. With so many battles, he can always find a puppet with the upper hand, always find a battle his team is winning. He meets eyes with Dr. Iplier from across the room, and Dr. Iplier jolts in terror. But Anti only smiles at him and winks before continuing to look over the scene.

By now, Natemare must’ve found the other egos. The building is large, but it’s not infinite. Dr. Iplier can only hope that Silver and Bing are strong enough to stop him before he causes irreparable damage.

~~~

Silver and Bing stand guard at the front of the studio and wait, tense and ready to fight, as the other egos huddle away and hide throughout the room.

Well, Silver is ready to fight. Bing is nervous, he can tell, but Silver tries to keep enough confidence for them both. He’s taken charge of the others so far, having the other egos spread out to keep them safer, stationing himself and Bing at the only entrance to head off whatever threat Anti sends their way. Silver knows Anti himself wouldn’t bother with them, and he doubts that Anti would send his strongest puppets after them, either. Anti is overconfident, and Silver is quite used to being underestimated.

Still, he has to send _somebody_. Silver doubts he’d just let them wait until he’s defeated the main fighters. Anti loves to cause suffering and incite chaos, and this is merely another opportunity to do so.

So Silver waits, standing next to Bing, and offers him a smile.

“You doing alright?” he asks.

“Not really, bro,” Bing laughs nervously, “I’m totally freaking out, tbh.”

Silver is a bit thrown off by the spoken acronym, but shrugs it off to respond.

“Hey, we can do this. I’m here with you, and I know you know how to fight.” Silver pauses. “You were right yesterday, you know. You are an android, too, and you _are_ tough.”

“You think so?” Bing noticeably perks up.

“Of course! We’ll get through this.”

Bing is three years younger than Silver, a huge difference for figments. Silver is used to fighting evil, used to putting everything on the line to protect others, and Bing isn’t. Bing has bravery in him, though, he has kindness in him, he has the right attitude to be a hero. But he’s practically a kid. Silver has to wonder if he volunteered out of feeling inadequate, if he saw the other Googles being allowed to fight and felt like he wasn’t good enough. It’s not the best motivation to help others, but Silver can’t help but understand. He certainly knows how it is to feel inadequate. Whatever happens, Silver decides, he’s going to make sure everyone makes it out of this alive, Bing included. No matter what it takes.

Suddenly, Silver’s super-hearing picks up on something different, something strange. Bing’s mechanically-enhanced hearing picks it up, too; Silver can tell by the way he jumps.

“What is that?” Bing asks in a tense whisper.

“Don’t know,” Silver answers, “But I think we’re about to find out.”

The sound is like hissing, not like an animal, but like air escaping a container. The hissing gets closer. From under the door to enter the studio, wisps of purple smoke curl across the floor.

Silver knows instantly who they’re dealing with, and from the look on his face, so does Bing. Of course it’s Natemare. Who else could dispatch such a large group of people as fast as possible?

“How long can you hold your breath?” Silver asks Bing as the smoke touches their feet.

“Not much longer than a normal human, dude,” Bing admits.

Mare appears before them in a poof of smoke, dark-rimmed eyes sizing them up.

“This’ll be easy,” he says, smirking.

“You hope,” Silver mutters, stepping back into a fighting stance and taking a deep breath in. Bing follows suit, and the fight is on.

They don’t have any audience, the other egos are all tucked out of harm’s way at the back of the studio. There isn’t any studio equipment in the way of the fight; it was all moved yesterday. In some ways, it’s easier to fight like this than it is to fight criminals in the street, where pedestrians can gawk and criminals can throw trashcans in Silver’s way or leap over park benches. There’s also plenty of room for Silver to fly, and he doesn’t have to worry about attracting the attention of passersby and drawing them into danger.

But none of these things help much. Silver’s never had to fight without breathing before, and it’s even harder than he would’ve guessed. Mare fully understands what Silver and Bing are trying to do, and fights to get them to draw breath. He throws smoke in their faces, his punches aim for the gut. But Bing and Silver are hitting back. Mare sometimes dodges in a puff of smoke, but Silver quickly figures out what direction he tends to dodge in, and is ready to meet him with a crack across the face every time he becomes tangible again.

Silver finds, though, that he desperately needs to breathe again. Bing seems to be faring better, whether he still has air left or has already snuck a breath under Mare’s nose. Mare can see Silver’s desperation, and hits on him harder. He moves like his smoke does, flowing over the floor and stopping in front of Silver to punch him in the stomach. Silver grunts, more air lost, but keeps his mouth shut. He swings out and manages to connect with the side of Mare’s neck, but it’s not enough to stop Mare from sending a plume of smoke into Silver’s face. The purple clouds his vision and the toxicity makes his eyes water.

All at once, Mare buckles. It takes Silver a moment to realize that Bing has kicked the back of both of his knees, one after the other, and shoved him bodily down by his head.

“Breathe, dude, I got this!” Bing shouts.

Silver backs up, smoke still in his eyes, hands waving away the cloud. He hears Bing grunt in pain, and clears his eyes in time to see Mare buck himself up, headbutting Bing’s neck. Bing gags and draws back without thinking, and Mare poofs himself back to standing. Silver finally, finally breathes, and takes in a long gasp of air as Mare kicks Bing across the face, sending him sprawling.

Silver can see in Bing’s face that he’s now the one about to run out of air, and even if he couldn’t, he can hear Bing’s fans whirring desperately as he overheats. Bing doesn’t need air for his lungs, he needs it to keep himself cool, and if he gets too hot, he could be badly damaged. Silver rushes forward as Mare plants a foot down on Bing’s chest, keeping him on the ground as he struggles. But Mare sees him out of the corner of his eye and meets him with a block of smoke, thick enough to be tangible, that slams into his chest and shoves him back, nearly toppling him over. Mare grins down at Bing, smoke curling around his fingers, ready to force Bing to breathe it in.

Bing glares at him, grabs at Mare’s leg on his chest, shoves up the pant leg, and wraps his hands around the bare skin.

Mare’s expression goes from confusion to shock to pain in a matter of seconds, and he howls, stepping back and trying to kick Bing off. A grin touches Bing’s agonized grimace and he holds fast as his overheated, metallic hands burn into Mare’s skin. While he’s distracted, Bing takes deep breaths, and once Mare seems to be getting used to the pain, Silver rushes him from behind and throws him bodily off of Bing. He catches a glimpse of Mare’s leg, which is badly burnt, at least to the second degree. Mare growls as he gets up from being shoved, and Silver keeps his eyes on him as he offers a hand to Bing to help him up. Mare limps, unable to bear much weight on the leg, but he charges forward, unwilling to give up.

The fight continues, one breath at a time.

Silver wonders how everyone downstairs is doing.

~~~

It takes a minute, but Dr. Iplier eventually figures out why Anti isn’t fighting.

Anti would very much like to join in on the carnage if his hungry gaze is any indication. Yet he continues to preside over the fight, much in the way Dr. Iplier is. But while Dr. Iplier is keeping an eye on the other egos, tracking their injuries and preparing to pull someone away to help them, Anti is doing something else. He’s not just watching the fight, he’s controlling it.

Dark’s aura isn’t behaving the way it did when Dark had it. Dark was never one for possession, not the way Anti is. The aura mimics Anti’s control over his puppets in more ways than the gray tinge to their skin. The aura is actively making them stronger, faster. It’s most obvious with Chase and Henrik: Even against the nicest Google, they shouldn’t have stood a chance. Yet they’re holding their own and evading Oliver’s punches with seeming ease. Dr. Iplier can’t speak much for Chase, but not even during the most dire emergencies has he seen Henrik move so fast, never has he seen him exhibit such physical strength. But Anti isn’t just feeding his puppets power, he’s carefully calculating who’s winning, who’s holding ground, and who’s beginning to slip. Whenever an Iplier is about to land a devastating attack on a puppet, Anti sends Chase or Henrik launching in front of the puppet with a flick of his hand. Each of them function as human shields: Despite the power the aura has given them, they’re still the weakest figments in the room, and even the most determined egos don’t want to kill them.

At one point, Google manages to stun Peevils, and it looks like he might have an opening to kill her. But as he brings his fist forward, Anti sends Henrik jumping into his path. Google’s eyes widen in surprise, and he readjusts, using his momentum to shove Henrik away before closing in on Peevils. But the extra moment is all Peevils needs to recover, and by the time Google’s in front of her she’s ready to block his hit and fight back. Then, Host nearly cracks his bat over Jameson’s head, but Chase gets in the way and breaks Host’s concentration, letting Jameson slip out of the way and resume his fight. When these little confrontations end, they always go right back to Oliver. Between the two of them, Oliver never gets a spare moment.

There’s one fight that Anti doesn’t send Chase and Henrik to interfere in though, and that fight is between Phantom and Yandere. Perhaps Anti knows that Yandere would gladly cut Chase and Henrik down to win the battle and get Dark’s aura back. But in turn, it means that Yandere is steadily but surely gaining the upper hand. Phantom may have magic, but Yandere is quick and relentless. His eyes blaze so bright they almost glow, his hands flex where they grasp his katana’s hilt, his mouth is set in a permanent snarl. There’s cuts and bruises on his skin from Phantom’s scepter and holes burned into his shirt from Phantom’s magic, but none of it seems to faze him. Phantom, meanwhile, is appearing to tire from the various gashes crossing over his skin, not to mention the bruises on his jaw from the moments Yandere got close enough to punch. He can’t keep up with Yandere anymore, and before long Yandere gets an opening.

From across the room, Dr. Iplier watches Yandere thrust his katana forward. By some miracle, he stabs through Phantom’s shoulder instead of his heart. As far away as he is, Dr. Iplier can hear Phantom’s scapula crack and split apart, and he has no doubt that the whole room can hear his howl of agony. Yandere doesn’t even pause to enjoy his victory; he only pulls his katana from Phantom’s shoulder and pushes him aside. As Phantom falls, clutching his shoulder as it bleeds, Yandere runs for Anti.

Before Dr. Iplier can act on the panic that rises in his chest, he hears a bang and a gasping cry from much closer by.

It’s Oliver, staggering backwards with a hand pressed on his chest, just above his core.

From across the room, Anti grins and winks at Dr. Iplier. And Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks, because he can’t stop Yandere and help Oliver at the same time. The frenetic pace of the fight makes Dr. Iplier’s choice for him.

Chase lowers his gun as Henrik comes behind Oliver, ready to slice his throat with his scalpel while he’s distracted. But he doesn’t get the chance; Google is suddenly there, jumping between them, and Oliver’s back hits Google’s with a grunt. Peevils is close behind following Google, but Google grabs Henrik by his lab coat and throws him into Peevils’s path. Henrik collides with her and the pair tumble to the ground in a tangle. Chase raises his gun again and Google pivots, turning to face him and nudging Oliver to follow the turn. The next bullet hits Google’s raised arm instead of Oliver’s head, and Google hardly flinches, instead looking over his shoulder at Dr. Iplier.

“Iplier, get Oliver!” Google shouts, and Dr. Iplier doesn’t have to be told twice. With Henrik out of the way and Oliver turned around, there’s nothing to stop Dr. Iplier from rushing forward to take Oliver’s arm and help him away from the fight. Just in time, too, for Henrik and Peevils are up again and rushing for Google as Dr. Iplier gets Oliver out of the line of fire. He doesn’t see what happens next, he’s busy helping Oliver lay down and evaluating his injury.

Dr. Iplier isn’t a mechanic, but the androids are very similar to humans in most medical respects, and he knows enough for quick patches and emergency fixes. Chase’s bullet luckily didn’t hit Oliver’s core, but it’s too close for comfort. With the way his internal machinery works, the bullet could nick the top of Oliver’s core if Dr. Iplier doesn’t remove it and quickly solder the wound closed. He has the tools to do it, and it won’t take long, but…

He looks up to the front of the room, to Yandere approaching Anti, and Anti meeting him with a grin and a gleeful laugh.

But Oliver coughs from the ground, and Dr. Iplier knows what he has to do. He opens his medical kit and pulls out the tools he needs.

“This is going to hurt,” Dr. Iplier warns Oliver, “Sorry in advance.”

 _“Please don’t get hurt,”_ Dr. Iplier internally begs Yandere, _“Please don’t get hurt.”_

~~~

The longer Silver and Bing fight, the harder it becomes to keep from breathing in Mare’s toxic smoke. Mare seems to realize this, for despite his burned leg slowing him down, he can’t keep a smirk off his face as he battles Silver and Bing.

Bing recovers from his near-overheating quickly, but it keeps happening, over and over. He keeps having to hold his breath for almost too long, and Silver knows that can’t be good for his hardware. Every time he regains his breath, he’s a little bit slower, his movements seem to take a little more effort. Bing is flagging, and if Silver is being honest, so is he. He feels perpetually out of breath, and even the clean gasps he manages to take in aren’t enough. Somehow he has to concentrate on his breathing and his fighting at the same time, and it’s getting harder by the moment. He and Bing are still landing hits, but the hits are weaker, and Mare has the advantage of not having to fear the smoke.

Finally, Mare punches Bing in the gut so hard that he loses all the air in him at once. He falls, winded, and his body breathes in before he can stop himself. He stays on the ground, both gasping and trying not to gasp, as Silver leaps forward to defend him, punching Mare across the face.

“Bing, come on, don’t breathe yet!” Silver cries. Purple smoke clings to the air around Bing, and Silver can see it flowing into Bing’s mouth as he pants.

“Can’t, can’t...” Bing gasps, sinking into the ground, spent. His eyes start to glaze over with fear. “No, please...”

“Oh crap,” Silver hisses. Bing’s already breathed in too much smoke. It’s up to Silver to finish this.

But Mare comes back from Silver’s punch with a vengeance, invigorated by his success in getting Bing.

“You can’t hold your breath forever,” Mare laughs as he and Silver strike and parry, “I can’t promise it’ll be quick or painless, but at least you’ll be able to breathe again!”

“Go to hell,” Silver mutters. Bing has gotten up enough to scramble away from something only he can see.

“C’mon, pease, don’t hurt me,” Bing whimpers, and Silver can’t help but hurt for him and wonder what he’s seeing.

That simple distraction is enough.

Mare punches Silver, not in the face but in the neck, making his cough and gag. He can’t stop himself from automatically trying to breathe, but there’s suddenly so much smoke around him that he can hardly get any oxygen. He falls to his knees, trying to get air before he passes out. He looks up enough to see Mare spread his arms out, sending purple smoke out in a burst. The stuff flows out from him, racing over the ground, billowing past Silver and Bing into the studio, to where the other egos are hiding.

“No,” Silver gasps, but it’s already too late. He can hardly see through the purple haze.

In the next moment, the screams start.

Shouts of alarm sound first as the egos see the smoke, urgent cries from those who know what the smoke is and demand others not to breathe it. But there’s too much of it to avoid, and the noise eventually morphs into the screams of the egos experiencing their worst fears. They meld together in a cacophony of terror, but Silver can still pick out a few.

“Leave us alone!” Damien howls, voice breaking with terror, “Haven’t you taken enough from us??”

“CJ, no, CJ!!” RJ wails. Silver can hear CJ wailing too, keening and wordless in agony.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m sorry, please!” Eric sobs from somewhere in the room. “Don’t hurt me, I didn’t mean it!!”

“Not solitary, please, let me out, I’ll do better!” Yancy hollers from another corner, “I swear I’ll do better, don’t leave me in here!!”

Silver struggles to get up as the screams of his family fill his ears. After releasing all that smoke, Mare must have been weakened. If Silver can find him, he’ll be easier to beat now than before. Silver sluggishly crawls to his feet, fighting the smoke. He feels tired, aching. It’s hard to breathe, his throat feels thick. When Silver manages to stand, he looks around, trying to find Mare. But he finds something else instead, and chokes.

It’s Roxanne, sprawled on the ground, body twisted and unnaturally broken. There’s blood leaking from her ears and nose, and her eyes are wide open, face contorted in terror. She’s ghostly pale, and Silver can tell just from looking at her that she’d be cold to touch.

“Roxy,” he gasps, nearly collapsing again.

Standing over her is Dark, looking down at Silver as he examines the fingernails on one hand. There’s blood caked there.

“Here I thought you were a stickler for the rules,” Dark says, deceptively calm, “Yet you’ve broken one of the most important rules I have for this house. What’s more, you broke it right under my nose, and kept it hidden for who knows how long.”

“D-Dark,” Silver stammers, helpless with fear. Dark is dead, this isn’t real, he _knows_ that, but the smoke smothers that knowledge every moment he spends staring at Roxanne’s body.

“You understand that I had no choice,” Dark continues, stepping over Roxanne to approach Silver. “You put all of us at risk by cavorting with a human. And the fact that she recognized me, that she knew us...you told her far too much.”

“She was only a human,” Silver whispers, tears filling his eyes and beginning to spill. “She couldn’t have hurt us, she didn’t tell anyone else–”

“Humans cannot be trusted!” Dark snaps, aura flashing around him, silencing Silver. “Even knowing how dangerous I was, all I had to do was threaten her and she spilled everything she knew about us. She could not keep our secrets. They were never hers at all.”

“I–”

“And it was _you_ who gave them to her,” Dark growls, grabbing Silver by the throat with the same hand covered in Roxy’s blood. Silver would gag if Dark wasn’t squeezing his throat so tight.

“Dark,” he rasps, “Please...”

Even through the tears, even through the agony and terror, Silver knows two things to be true.

 _“These are illusions, they are not corporeal,”_ he reminds himself, _“Mare can only be in one place, and if he’s here, he can’t hurt anyone else.”_

It’s little comfort. Silver’s mind is betraying him, and having those facts in his mind doesn’t make him fear any less, doesn’t make the hole in his heart from seeing Roxanne dead get any smaller.

“Roxanne is not the only one who needs to be punished,” Dark says, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “You need to be reminded of the rules here, and you need to relearn your place.”

Silver resigns himself to this, closing his eyes in grief.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, not to Dark, and not even to Roxanne.

~~~

After Yandere takes down Phantom, his only goal is Anti. He managed to restrain himself from putting his katana through Phantom’s chest, but he has no plans to do the same with Anti.

Anti is going to pay for what he’s done, no matter what Yandere has to do.

He runs to Anti where he stands lording over the fight, watching his puppets battle for him. Anti laughs to see Yandere, spreading his arms.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, hair shifting into a bright yellow-green and eyes going black. “I’d say it’s been lonely without you, but I’ve managed to find myself some company.” Dark’s aura swirls around Anti as his appearance changes back to normal, but his skin is still tinted gray, the same way Dark’s was. The sight of it makes Yandere shake with rage.

“Are you ready to die, Guritchi??” Yandere tries to growl, but it comes out like a screech, filtered through his anger. Anti laughs again and settles into a fighting stance, claws out, aura wisping around himself.

“Are you?” he asks in return, giggling madly.

Yandere launches at him, katana raised, but Anti evades, poofing away in a burst of smoke and reappearing behind Yandere.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” Anti tells him smugly.

Yandere shrieks in rage and whirls around to slice through Anti’s head. But once again he teleports away, using Dark’s aura like it’s his own. It makes Yandere’s blood boil ever further, makes his vision go red.

Which might be why he doesn’t notice Anti’s aura swirling around him, blocking everything out, until the smoky gray is all he can see. He spins around, looking for Anti.

“Come out, you coward!!!” Yandere howls, out of his mind with rage.

And being surrounded by Dark’s aura is making grief rise up in him too, as raw and powerful as it was when he first found out what happened to Dark. Yandere chokes on it, on the smoke and on his own despair as he searches through the deep gray for Anti. The aura is cold, and Yandere can hear indistinct voices bubbling from all around, but it isn’t scary. It reminds him of before, when Dark’s aura would whisper through Yandere’s hair, or gently wrap around his arm, or ghost over the small of his back and push him into Dark’s arms. It’s too familiar, the cold and the wind and the quiet voices are too soothing. Yandere’s surprised by the sob that escapes his throat.

“Yami,” he gasps, “Why did this happen? Why are you gone?”

Now Anti is wearing his aura, desecrating his memory. That thought catapults Yandere back into hate and anger once again, and he searches for Anti with renewed vigor, darting around as far as he can see, katana slashing, hands trembling with the desire to kill.

“When I find you I’m ripping you apart,” Yandere growls, “I’m going to crack open your chest and stab out your heart with one of your own ribs, so you can feel what you’ve done to me.”

“Didn’t Host say you can’t kill me?” Anti laughs. Yandere tries to pinpoint where his voice came from, but it echoes too strongly. “Not if you want Dark’s aura back, that is.”

“Dirty fucking spy,” Yandere spits, “I’ll beat you within an inch of your life. When Wil and the others have taken Yami’s aura from you I’ll cut out your larynx so you’ll finally shut up. I’ll pull out your claws one at a time. I’ll see what your brain looks like, I’ll split your skull open. You’ll wish you’d let me kill you earlier.”

Anti laughs, loud and cackling, but there’s something under it, something else that Yandere’s ears pick up.

Static.

Yandere freezes.

“What the fuck are you playing at,” Yandere gasps.

“What do you mean?” Anti asks innocently. Yandere still can’t see him through Dark’s aura, still can’t tell where his voice is coming from. Below his voice, static pops and crackles.

“Shut up, shut up!” Yandere screeches, whirling around, trying to get away from the static.

“You asked,” Anti chuckles, “What, don’t you remember this static? Just like old times, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you!!” Yandere screams, _“Kutabare! Shine!!!”_

“Wasn’t it easier, then?” Anti continues, static getting louder. Yandere feels like it’s flowing into him, through his ears and down his throat. “Wasn’t it easy when you knew I was in charge, when you weren’t thinking about anything but that? When you didn’t have a care in the world?”

“No,” Yandere moans, standing still, trying to shut the static out.

“You remember that feeling, don’t you?” Anti says, voice low and almost gentle, “You remember this too, don’t you, the way this aura feels around you, the sound of it. Doesn’t it feel good? Don’t you miss it?”

“Stop,” Yandere whimpers, tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Anti coos, “Don’t cry, _usagi,_ just listen. Just listen.”

The static is so loud Yandere can hardly think, and with its buzzing comes other messages flowing into Yandere’s mind.

_Relax._

_Be calm._

_You are safe._

Yandere sobs for the second time as a wisp of aura curls around his cheek, wiping away tears. Another tendril ghosts by his ear, adding its murmuring voices to the static. Against his will, Yandere can feel the fear and the rage slipping away. It’s sadness, it’s the agony of lost love that flows in to replace it, and Yandere trembles with grief. It’s despair, and relief, and contentment, and relaxation. It’s right there, comfort and bliss is _right there,_ so close, so far away ever since Yandere lost Dark. He couldn’t miss Dark more if he tried, not even having Damien around is enough. Dark’s aura is winding around Yandere like a blanket, and that horrid static is blanketing him too, rushing through him, soothing Yandere despite himself. It’s so hard to keep fighting. It’s so hard to keep missing Dark.

“I just want this to stop,” Yandere whispers through his tears.

“It will,” Anti murmurs, “It will, sakura. Just let go. Just let me in.”

How can Yandere say no to that?

He closes his eyes, and gives in.

When Yandere opens them again, they’re blanketed over with static. His katana slips out of his hands and hits the floor with a clatter. Anti finally emerges from the smoke and allows it to dissipate. But static continues to ring in Yandere’s ears, and he stays where he is, slumped and loose as Anti walks towards him, claws out, grinning, ready to finish what he started weeks ago.

Then Dr. Iplier is in front of Yandere, arms spread wide, eyes glinting with equal parts fear and stubborn determination.

“I’m not letting you hurt him,” he says, quiet and angry, “Not again.”

Anti blinks, then frowns.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Oliver?” he growls, put out at the interruption.

“I did,” Dr. Iplier answers. “How long did you really think that’d take me?”

Anti flicks his gaze towards the battlefield. Sure enough, Oliver is back on his feet, fighting alongside the others again, no worse for wear aside from a hole in his shirt, revealing the metal plate soldered over his wounds.

“Whatever,” Anti says, “You’re already too late. The conditioning from the static is still in Yan’s mind, and he’s fully sucked in now. All that’s left is for me to put him out of his misery.”

“Are you really such a coward that you’d kill him like this?” Dr. Iplier asks, trying to tamp down his anger. “Do you think he’d beat you in a straight fight? Are you scared you’re outmatched? So now you’re gonna kill him when he’s incapacitated? What are you afraid of?”

Anti snarls, lips curling dangerously.

“Watch yourself, Doc,” Anti growls, “You can’t stop me from killing Yandere, but I might just kill you first.”

“Do it then,” Dr. Iplier says, standing up straighter, “Kill me. Give Yandere a chance to fight back. If you’re so confident you can beat him then do it. Maybe you’ll get a better fight out of killing me first.”

Dr. Iplier stares at Anti, unwavering, even as static buzzes around him, even as Dark’s aura whips against his skin, blows his hair around. Anti glowers, but he’s thoughtful. Dr. Iplier can feel Yandere’s presence behind him, how he’s almost leaning against Dr. Iplier’s back, so boneless from the static in his mind that he can barely stand at all. Dr. Iplier stands up tall and looks Anti in the eye with dignity as he waits for Anti to kill him.

“You know, every once in a while you have a pretty good idea, Doc,” Anti finally admits, grinning. “But you’d really do this? You’d really deprive the others of their medic, just for him?”

Why wouldn’t he? That’s how this whole situation started, because Dr. Iplier couldn’t bear to see Yandere killed. Maybe he hasn’t learned his lesson, maybe he’s still being selfish, maybe it’s a bad idea in the long run to sacrifice himself. But if it gives Yandere a chance to get away from Anti, or the other egos a chance to see what’s happening and stop him, then isn’t it worth it?

Dr. Iplier feels Yandere’s weight off his back, hears him step back.

“Shishi?” he mumbles, groggy and confused but coming back to himself.

And that’s all Dr. Iplier needs to be certain of his choice.

“I would,” he answers Anti, “For Yandere, I will.”

“Suit yourself,” Anti says. He reels his arm back. “Say goodbye.”

Anti punches through Dr. Iplier’s chest, coming out the other side with his heart clutched in his clawed hand.

For a long moment, there is only silence as Anti pulls his arm back out, taking Dr. Iplier’s heart with him. Dr. Iplier’s body sways and falls, back hitting the ground, gaping chest facing the ceiling, blood pooling around him.

Then, Yandere _screams._

~~~

Silver coughs, not from the purple smoke surrounding him, but from the kick to his stomach that’s sent him rolling across the floor.

“Please,” Silver wheezes. There’s specks of his own blood on the ground. Dark – no, Mare – but it’s _Dark_ – walks up to him, dress shoes clacking against the floor.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Dark answers, voice deceptively smooth.

Silver sighs, exhausted. He can still hear the terrified cries of the other egos, but it’s supplemented by coughing as their bodies try to expel the smoke. Even with the coughing, the volume is quieter than it was before, as though some egos have gone silent. If this doesn’t end soon, someone is going to die. But Silver is paralyzed. He can hardly think, hardly breathe, hardly move. All he has is fear. His eyes are wide behind his mask, his only desire is to run away, escape, but his body won’t let him.

Dark kicks him in the head, and Silver cries out as stars burst in his mind.

“Roxanne was lucky, all things considered,” Dark muses, circling Silver like a shark as he clutches his forehead. “I could’ve killed her like this, slow and painful. But I let her die quickly. I hope you’re grateful.”

A rush of agony rips through Silver, but running alongside it is a sense of wrongness.

“Y-You’re gonna…gonna kill me?” Silver asks.

“You’ve always been a liability,” Dark – Mare? – growls, “And now you’ve become a hazard.”

“Then, then…” Silver struggles from the ground, managing to get on his hands and knees. “You’d put me in…in your v-void for a week…” He slowly drags himself to his feet. “Or s-stick me in The Cell.” He looks Dark – no, Mare in the eyes. “Dark would never kill one of us, n-no matter what we did.”

Mare, wearing Dark’s appearance like a hologram, blinks in confusion. His eyes widen in shock, then narrow in anger.

“Does it matter?” he spits, grabbing Silver by the throat. “What are you gonna do about it? Look around, Silver, you already lost.” He grins. “My smoke’s going to kill them all, and I’m going to kill you.” He squeezes Silver’s throat, and Silver wheezes, trying to breathe. He kicks out and claws at Mare’s hand, but he’s too weak to break free. Mare’s hand gets tighter, his grin meaner. “Some hero you were.”

Silver can’t breathe. Not even the fear smoke can get into his lungs, and he was already out of breath from his injuries. It only takes moments for his vision to start narrowing, for his chest to start burning from the inside. What little energy he had leaves him, and his arms and legs begin to still. The world around him starts to go dark, a booming crack sounds–

And Silver’s on the ground, Mare’s hand gone from his neck, coughing and gasping for air. His vision is still blurred from tears as he coughs, but when he looks up, he can tell that Mare looks like Mare again, not Dark. The area is much less purple than it was a moment ago, and Mare is using the hand that earlier held Silver by his throat to hold his other arm. His shoulder is bleeding profusely. He’s shocked, staring at something behind Silver. Silver turns to look, and gapes.

It’s Captain Magnum, hand still raised, flintlock pistol still smoking. Silver manages to sit up, and he can see the look on Magnum’s face, darker than a storm. His pupils are dilated and Silver can tell he’s breathing rapidly, but it’s as though his body’s fear response isn’t affecting his conscious mind.

“What the hell,” Mare gasps, “You’re supposed to be seeing your worst fears!”

“I don’t fear a thing but the briney deep,” Magnum snarls, voice low like thunder, “And I respect her more than I could ever fear her. Now, if ye don’t make yerself scarce, I’ll see ye to Davy Jones, and that’s a promise.”

Mare glowers, but there’s not much he can do. His shot shoulder still bleeds heavily, and his arm hangs down limply like he couldn’t move it if he tried. The smoke dissipating from the room is further evidence that he’s been weakened. It would take Magnum too long to reload his pistol to shoot Mare again, but he’s more than capable of beating Mare down with his bare hands. Mare seems to recognize this, so he spits angrily in Magnum’s direction before turning into smoke, floating slowly away and taking the rest of the purple in the air with him.

“Mate, ye alright?” Magnum asks Silver, hurrying over and helping him up.

“As good as I can be,” Silver says, but he already feels better without the fear smoke in his system. “Just…thank you, that was incredible.”

“Arr, t’was nothing,” Magnum mumbles, but he can’t help but give an embarrassed smile.

“Yo, Mags, what’re you doing here?” asks Bing, walking over. There’s confusion written on his face as the smoke clears from his mind. “What the hell happened?”

“Magnum shot Mare in the shoulder,” Silver says, “We’re safe now.”

“Man, sorry I couldn’t help,” Bing says, frowning at himself. “I didn’t–”

He’s cut off by someone – Bop, Silver quickly realizes – crashing into his side and hugging him tight.

“Bing, Bing,” he sobs, burying his face into Bing’s neck.

“Boppy, hey, it’s okay,” Bing murmurs, turning to him and hugging him back, Silver and Magnum forgotten. “It’s alright, we’re all good, baby…”

“I guess that’s my cue to check on the others,” Silver says to Magnum, “Hopefully no one’s hurt; that smoke can be deadly.”

“I best be seein’ about my mates as well,” Magnum muses, subdued, “The pair o’ them so afeard wasn’t a pretty sight.”

Silver nods, and the two part ways into the studio. Before he goes, Silver can’t help but look back at where Roxanne was lying, but she’s gone like Mare’s smoke is. Still, Silver shudders as he turns away and walks off, knowing he’ll be seeing Roxanne’s body in his nightmares for the foreseeable future.

He finds the Jim Twins first, huddled together so tight they look connected, both crying silently and trembling. RJ is the one who answers Silver’s questions about how the pair are feeling and breathing, as CJ refuses to let RJ go to sign. RJ won’t take his arms away from his twin either. CJ seems to have a lingering cough, but neither twin is in immediate danger from smoke inhalation.

“Did either of you lose consciousness?” Silver asks.

“Well, I know I didn’t,” RJ mumbles, “I don’t know about CJ, I didn’t…” He pauses, eyes getting teary again. “I thought he was dead.”

CJ buries his face in RJ’s neck, as though he experienced the same thing. Silver can imagine what the twins saw, and his heart aches for them.

Silver finds the trio of new egos next. Yancy and Illinois are tangled in each other, and the pair of them are nearly swallowed up by Magnum’s arms around them. Neither are crying, though they both have tracks down their cheeks from earlier tears. Yancy is trembling.

“You’re all okay?” Silver asks them, “Any trouble breathing?”

“No,” Yancy and Lio answer at almost the same time. Magnum looks at them both with worry. He must have an idea of what they saw in Mare’s smoke, but the pair aren’t about to mention it.

Silver moves on, and finds King of the Squirrels, Ed Edgar, and Eric all sitting together. King and Ed are sitting together, that is; Eric is sitting in Ed’s lap, arms around his neck, audibly crying. Ed is holding him and stroking his hair, trying to soothe, but he looks like he’s seen a ghost. King is similarly skittish, and he jolts when he hears Silver approaching, though he relaxes once he sees him.

“You okay?” he asks, “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Haven’t we all?” Silver replies, trying to smile. “You guys alright? Can you breathe well?”

King and Ed both nod, and Ed speaks up.

“Eric was sayin’ he couldn’t catch his breath a minute ago,” Ed says, “Can’t tell if it’s breathin’ trouble or if he’s still too upset from all them illusions.”

It’s not an unfounded assumption; Eric is clearly still distraught over whatever he saw. But he’ll definitely need to be first in line when Dr. Iplier is checking everyone over.

There’s still two more people Silver has to check on, and he finds them before long. Damien sits against Celine’s stretcher, trembling, clutching one of her hands in his.

“Damien?” Silver asks softly, trying not to startle him. Damien still jumps at the sound of Silver’s voice.

“Oh, S-Silver,” he gasps, “I’m…I’m alright, I think, and Celine is as well, I believe…”

Silver still walks up to Celine to check her pulse and make sure she looks alright. Damien seems to be right; her pulse is normal and her color hasn’t changed. But Silver has his doubts about Damien. He’s still shaking, and his breathing is a little too fast and a little too shallow.

“Hey, Damien,” Silver says, kneeling down to him, “Celine’s breathing is okay, but you need to breathe, too.”

“I’m, I…” Damien tries, but his voice is quiet and his pupils are still blown wide in terror. Silver gives him a reassuring smile.

“Here, let’s take a few breaths together. There’s no more smoke in the air, so it’s safe to breathe now. We’ll breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale for eight. Four, seven, eight. You understand?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Then let’s start. In…” Silver breathes in, starting a count to four in his mind. Damien does the same, with effort. “Hold…” Silver counts to seven, and so does Damien, though he’s clearly fighting the urge to hyperventilate. “Out.” Silver exhales as he counts to eight, and Damien follows, though he seems to run out of breath to exhale partway through. Still, he’s trying, and that means it’s already working.

Silver isn’t used to seeing Damien like this. He hasn’t had much cause to interact with him before this, but Damien was always so composed in every meeting, even when he was clearly rattled. Damien may have been unnerved and confused in the videos about him, but in real life, he has the decorum and composure one would expect of a city mayor. But now, though, in the face of Mare’s smoke, he’s a terrified wreck. Not that Silver can blame him; that fear had nearly gotten the better of himself, too. Though the breathing exercise is for Damien, Silver has to admit it’s working to dissipate the last of his own anxiety as well.

The pair keep breathing for a little while, and after several repetitions, Damien recovers. He stops trembling, his eyes are no longer so wide, and when he speaks again, his voice is calm.

“Thank you,” he says, “I apologize, that smoke just…” He considers what words to use, but Silver smiles gently again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, “You should’ve seen me earlier.” He sighs. “That was Natemare. He’s another figment, from someone else. That smoke was his power. It’s poisonous and makes people hallucinate their worst fears.”

“I see,” Damien says, thoughtful. He laughs weakly. “That explains what I saw.”

Silver doesn’t ask. He knows it’s not his business. Damien thinks for a moment longer, then sighs.

“I imagine he hasn’t shown his face here, else I would’ve been told about it,” Damien muses, “But then…that means he could still appear. If Dark and Wilford haven’t found him…he must still exist.”

Silver knows who Damien’s talking about, and he nods.

“Well, I suppose it’s just as well,” Damien says, smiling tiredly, “If the fans could love someone like Dark, or love who Wilford has become, then why wouldn’t they love Mark, too?”

It occurs to Silver then that Damien is tremendously lonely. Wilford is so different he’s hardly the same person, and all Damien has his comatose sister. Silver was planning to return to his own friends after checking on Damien, to stay with Ed and King and Eric until he got news from the egos downstairs. But Damien needs company, he needs a person to lean on right now. Of all the egos in the room now, Damien’s the only one who’s alone.

Silver already knows that being a hero means sacrifices. Sometimes big ones, like his earlier fight with Mare. But sometimes small ones, like this, like now.

Damien doesn’t say anything more, and neither does Silver, but the silence is amicable. Silver’s super-hearing can pick up the murmurs of other egos, talking and reassuring each other. He can hear that Damien is breathing normally now, can see that he’s calmer. And Silver feels calmer, too.

The calm is shattered by a shrill, wrenching scream piercing the air.

Silver and Damien both jump a mile, and as the scream fades, it’s replaced by the fearful exclamations and surprised shouting of the other egos.

“What on earth was that??” Damien gasps.

“It…” Silver’s stomach knots up as he realizes. “It came from downstairs.”

Damien’s eyes widen. He clutches Celine’s hand a little tighter.

Silver wonders, and fears, what could possibly be happening.

~~~

Host has been fighting for much longer than everyone else.

The first time Jameson grabbed his pocket watch and turned back the seconds, the Host’s power let him follow without trying, and both men were too surprised to make much use of the knowledge. But Jameson is used to time, he knows the right moments to do over and the right ones to let slip. Host follows along, trying not only to defeat him, but stop his hand from turning time back whenever he tries. But Jameson is quick, nearly as quick as Host’s words, and nearly quicker than his swinging bat. Time reaches back and reaches back, but Host can’t check how many seconds have been lost, can’t narrate how long they’ve been fighting. His narration flows out of his mouth in a rapid stream, tracking Jameson’s movements and letting him now when they’ve gone backwards. He cannot stop even for a moment to think of anything else, he cannot stop the endless torrent of words. If he loses track for even a moment, he’ll lose his momentum and fail to catch up, and Jameson will win. He can’t even tell who’s winning at all. He can only focus moment-to-moment, as Jameson endlessly tries to reach back into the past.

But then a wail splits the room, and both Jameson and Host are given pause.

 _“The fight ceases,”_ Host narrates, words nearly too fast to be understood, just as they’ve been this whole fight. _“The entire fight ceases, the others are rendered still. They look to the front of the room for the source. It is Yandere, anguished. Beyond him is Anti, triumphant and cackling. Between them is Dr. Iplier, d–”_

Host chokes. His words leave him. After so many minutes of relentless speech, of constantly narrating nearly without breath, this is the word that stops him. It does not escape his lips, but he already knows what it is. He already knows what happened. He already knows what he lost.

The word “dead” does not leave his mind and pierce the air, but it is still the word that breaks him.

“Edward,” he gasps as his heart shatters.

Anti is still laughing, Yandere is still sobbing. Host continues to narrate, mechanically and quietly, enough to see the other egos still frozen still, comprehending, enough to see Anti’s puppets also frozen, distracted by Anti’s murderous glee. Yandere falls to his knees, crouching over Dr. Iplier, and Anti advances, ready to take Yandere next.

At that, the spell is broken. The fight resumes. The puppets work to distract the egos, to keep them from reaching Yandere to offer help. Host is pulled back into his own fight, still numb with loss, so he cannot see what happens next.

He cannot see Wilford run to intercept Anti and rescue Yandere, only to be bodily stopped and blocked by Jackie. He cannot see Chrome break away from his fight with MadPat to run across the room, faster than any human could go. He cannot see the other Googles shout to him, try to stop him. Though Host does not see these things, they happen, and they lead to Chrome advancing on Anti with eyes blazing red, and Anti laughing at the sight of him.

“You really think you can stop me, little tin can!?” Anti laughs, nearly howling with joy and madness. Yandere has enough time to look up and see Chrome there, enough time to be shocked through his tears.

There is time for nothing else before Anti launches, slamming into Chrome, _into_ Chrome, sending him stumbling, staggering back. Anti disappears from view and into Chrome’s system in the blink of an eye. By the time Chrome has regained his balance, he isn’t Chrome any longer. His metallic skin has gone gray, inky smoke billows around him, bizarre swathes of glitching criss-cross over him. His expression changes from rage to manic glee, but his eyes stay burning red, so bright it hurts to meet his gaze.

“Oh, that was _easy,_ ” Anti exclaims through Chrome’s mouth, laughing through Chrome’s throat. “I’m on a roll, who wants to be next?” He grins down at Yandere. “How about we finally finish this, _usagi?_ ”

Yandere is frozen where he kneels over Dr. Iplier, eyes wide with terror. But before Anti can move forward, he’s grabbed at both sides by two sets of inhumanly strong arms.

“Chrome, kick him out!” Plus shouts from the right.

“You can push him out, I know you can!” Oliver cries from the left.

“Bim, get Anti!” yells Google, following a few paces behind his brothers.

“Gimme a second!” Bim yells back, too preoccupied with fending off a magical blast from Marvin to retaliate immediately.

Anti understands this, and grins wickedly. He brings one foot down on Plus’s ankle, metal against metal, crushing it mercilessly. He sends a swathe of inky black into Oliver’s face, pushing the aura into his eyes and mouth. Both Plus and Oliver are distracted by the onslaught, instinctively loosening their grip on Anti’s arms. And that loosened grip is all it takes. Google, still a few steps too far away, knows what’s about to happen but isn’t fast enough to stop it.

Google isn’t fast enough to stop Anti from freeing his arms and sending each one through the chests of Plus and Oliver, each hand coming out the other side with a chunk of glowing core in his claws. Anyone who doesn’t see it happen is alerted to it by Bim’s horrified scream. Plus and Oliver collapse in two heavy thuds, and Anti’s arms, Chrome’s arms, are stained near to the shoulders with oil.

In the next moment, Google has tackled Anti to the ground, pinning his arms awkwardly beneath him, but Anti hardly cares. He cackles wildly, deliriously happy from his victory, as Google keeps him on the ground, eyes glowing bright blue.

 _“Bim!!”_ Google roars.

“I’m trying!!” Bim screeches, already crying as he tries to fend off Marvin and free Chrome from Anti at the same time.

At that moment, Host lands a lucky swipe at Jameson with his bat, knocking his head sideways and making him fall. Host has a moment to reevaluate and understand the shouting he heard while he was fighting with Jameson.

 _“Plus and Oliver are dead, by Anti’s hands in Chrome’s hands,”_ Host narrates, trepidation knotting in his chest, _“Bim cannot pull him out and fight Marvin at the same time. Wilford cannot break away from Jackie to assist, and the puppets that the Googles left are advancing on them now.”_ A spares a moment to find the future. _“If something is not done, Anti will kill Google, and the rest of the egos will likely follow.”_

Host has only one idea. He doesn’t know how much time it will garner, but with Jameson half-concussed, it could be enough to stop the carnage and finally end this fight. He has no choice. He breathes in, long and deep, and then he pulls in all of his power and _speaks_.

 ** _“Anti and his puppets are still!”_** Host bellows, loud over the battlefield.

They all freeze, even Chrome’s body no longer struggles under Google. They are confused, they flex their muscles, they try to move, but they cannot.

 _“Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still,”_ Host continues, murmuring low, power shimmering in the air around him, bright and golden like light in stained glass. To keep so many powerful figments frozen in place requires him to repeat the statement as a mantra, to continuously feed it power. Once again, if he stops his narration for even a moment, it will all be over. _“Anti and his puppets are still, Anti and his puppets are still–”_

Bim finally manages to yank Anti out of Chrome, and as Anti reappears, Chrome sags into the floor, face obscured by his bangs falling into his face. Google releases his arms and moves off of him, but Chrome stays where he is and begins to shake. Anti, despite being unable to move, laughs for the hundredth time, still high on bloodlust.

“I’m three for three here, huh?” Anti giggles, glitching like a light show even under Host’s spell. “Host can’t keep up a narration that powerful for long.”

“I don’t need long,” Google growls, standing up and grabbing Anti by the neck in one swift movement. His thumb digs into the slice across Anti’s neck, making him gag through his laughter, but not making him stop.

“Don’t kill him, Google,” Wilford speaks up, sighing as he approaches, finally able to confront Anti now that Jackie is rendered frozen. He talks like he’s been inconvenienced, but his bright pink eyes and deep-set scowl betray his rage. “We won’t get anywhere that way. Besides, there’s better ways to get Anti out of here.”

“Oh, really?” Anti coughs, splitting blood through his smiling teeth. Google reluctantly releases him, throwing him to the side and returning to Chrome’s side. Anti manages to stay standing, and despite the blood now running down his neck, stays triumphant. “What are you gonna do, if you’re not gonna kill me?” Anti asks Wilford, taunting.

Wilford poofs around the room, once to grab Jackie by the throat, once to do the same to Marvin, and once again to come back before Anti, holding them by their necks in front of him. Host’s spell prevents them from even squirming in Wilford’s grasp.

“I’ll take away a couple puppets,” Wilford says, “Or you can leave now and keep them for a while longer. Choose.”

“You won’t do it,” Anti says, still grinning, “They’re puppets; they aren’t in control. Besides, some of your fellow Ipliers are pretty fond of them. You won’t kill them.”

“You don’t think I would?” Wilford asks, expression darkening even as his mouth quirks into an unhinged smile. “You think I give a shit about Jackie or Marvin? You think I care about making a few people upset?” He squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks a little tighter. “I’d rather they be upset than _dead_. You’ve already killed Dark, so don’t expect me to shed a tear for your puppets.” His smile widens, splitting his face, eyes still glowing pink. “After everything, what’s a little more death? What’s a couple more bodies? What’s a little more madness?”

With that, he squeezes Jackie and Marvin’s necks _hard_ , and two loud crunching snaps fill the air. Wilford tosses both bodies at Anti’s feet, and they flop to the ground like ragdolls, heads lolling too far. Bim gasps, but otherwise, all is silent. Anti’s expression changes from glee to rage in an instant.

“You fucker! Those are my strongest puppets!!” Anti screeches. Even in his anger he cannot break Host’s spell.

“Your move, glitch,” Wilford replies, poofing away briefly to grab Jameson and hold him by his neck in front of Anti. “You wanna lose your time traveller next? You wanna test me again?”

At that moment, a clutch of purple smoke wavers into the room. Anti and Wilford turn to look, and see Natemare appear at the end of the room, just outside the doors to the stairs. Host’s spell seizes him as well, and he cannot move, but Anti can see his messy shoulder wound and his too-pale face even at a distance. It reminds him of Phantom, who Yandere stabbed in the shoulder what feels like ages ago. He’s still lying on the floor where he fell, surrounded by blood, probably unconscious, possibly worse. Anti looks back to Wilford, to Jameson in his grasp, to Host still narrating him and his puppets still. With Host busy narrating, the egos can’t take Dark’s aura from Anti, but Anti can’t retaliate and finish the fight. They've reached a stalemate, and Anti knows it.

Finally, Anti growls in frustration, glitching harshly, shadows of himself splitting off and raging just like Dark’s glitches used to do.

“Fine,” Anti snarls, “Let us go and we’ll leave. But mark my words, you’ll see us again. And next time will be the last time.”

“It sure as hell will,” Wilford spits.

The Host finally, finally lets his narration stop completely, and Anti and his puppets can move again. Wilford tosses Jameson away, and as soon as his hand leaves his neck, Anti teleports himself and his puppets – Jackie and Marvin included – away with a flash of black smoke.

Host groans and slumps over, spent. Bim manages to get to him fast enough to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Let go,” Host rasps, voice nearly gone. Despite his exhaustion, he pushes Bim away, and Bim is too upset over the last few minutes’ events to protest.

Host stumbles blindy across the room, and Bim follows in a daze, still sobbing. Google is kneeling on the floor with Chrome, holding him tight, expression bleak and haunted. Chrome is keening, emitting a low metallic screech, curled in on himself and unable to look at his brothers’ bodies. Bim falls to his knees beside Oliver and collapses onto his chest, weeping. Host goes further, and narrates Wilford, sitting behind Yandere and stroking his hair, eyes still bright pink and expression still angry. He narrates Yandere, face in his hands, sobbing, Dr. Iplier’s head in his lap. He narrates Dr. Iplier’s body, cold now, blood congealed, eyes still open and glassy.

“My love,” Host whispers, voice hardly audible. He kneels beside his doctor, cups his face in his hands. He knew he’d be cold, but feeling it is far worse than narrating it. He moves one hand to tug Dr. Iplier’s eyelids shut, but it doesn’t make Dr. Iplier look any less dead in his mind’s eye. He’s still pale, there’s still a hole in his chest, there’s still blood on the floor. Host’s mind moves with a hundred thoughts at once, a hundred memories, a hundred moments with his doctor and a hundred times he loved him. Yet he can think of nothing at all. There is nothing in his mind but pain. His body aches from exertion, but it aches from loss, too. Despair builds in Host’s chest until he moans, long and loud, adding a resonant low tone to Yandere and Bim’s high-pitched sobs, to Chrome’s scratchy static wail. That’s the note that allows the symphony of grief to flow up to the third floor, to reach the horrified ears of the other egos.

When the weaker egos leave the studio, they see the group who fought trudging forth, faces drawn and eyes still leaking. Google is stone-faced as he carries Oliver, Chrome stares at the floor as he carries Plus. Host, despite his flagging strength, holds Dr. Iplier tight against his chest, and Bim walks alongside him in case he needs support, still in tears and unable to look away from Oliver. Wilford heads the group with Yandere, who’s still distraught, weeping in his arms. The other egos gasp and cry out as what happened sinks in. Some begin to cry, some are in too much shock. The Jims swarm Bim in tears at the sight of Oliver, and Bim does his best to comfort them. Ed steps in front of Eric, trying to shield him from the carnage, but Eric begins sobbing anyway. King and Silver are horrified to see Dr. Iplier, one of the oldest and most steadfast of them all, dead in Host’s arms. The rest of them react in varying levels of despair, all knowing that Anti has gotten away, and that he’s taken the lives of three of their own with him.

“Good god, what happened?” asks Damien, quietly horrified and barely audible through the screams and sobs of the other egos.

“What do you think?” asks Wilford, no longer enraged, but only exhausted. “We lost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr! My username is juju-on-that-yeet, and I'm always down to talk about the egos :D Or get yelled at for putting them through the ringer :3c


End file.
